


Haute Couture

by snibnoom



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fashion Designer MJ, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Model Bin, Non-Explicit Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: To be successful, one needs to follow the rules. To be irreplaceable, one needs to be different. To keep his head above water, Myungjun needs both.Fashion is a game that has to be played hard and fast. There are rules to follow, boundaries to draw, and expectations to be met. As the personal assistant to the nation’s top designer, Myungjun knows how important it is to adhere to a strict code. He doesn’t have the luxury of being caught up in gossip and rumors. He doesn’t have the luxury of breaking the rules. Success is the most important thing in Myungjun’s life—until he meets Moon Bin.Myungjun’s interest in Moon Bin breaks every rule he was ever taught and goes against every warning he was ever given, but the model shows him that success and happiness aren’t mutually exclusive. Myungjun could have both if only he would break the rules.





	1. Alexandra Kim's Personal Assistant

How did Myungjun get to this point of life? He knew what had led him this far, but it seems like a dream to be substituting his own work in lieu of a now-ruined work by Alexandra Kim—his boss and the best designer in South Korea. His hands shake as he walks to his car half a block from the shooting location. He can still feel the burn of Moon Bin’s hands on his shoulders and the shock of nearly being squished under a light. Working for Miss Kim had seemed unreal to begin with and standing face to face with Moon Bin and Lee Dongmin, the nation’s most eligible and well-known models, had only driven home the absurdity of his life’s situation. The image of Miss Kim’s suit flashes in Myungjun’s mind. Getting the coffee stain out will be impossible no matter what solution anybody tries. Her design for the shoot had been a one of a kind, too. Myungjun’s uncensored speaking had landed him here, facing the trunk of his car and the possibility of being fired if his design isn’t good enough.

 

Myungjun’s early life had been split between Suwon and Seoul. He spent his weekends trailing behind his mother in Seoul as she rushed from one high end store to another. Assistants babbled over his head about lofty cafes and the most desirable models. On the mornings before he went to school in Suwon, Myungjun would peer over his mother’s shoulder as she scribbled out design ideas. (Myungjun, of course, always made it his business to doodle in the empty space of the pages when she was away.) Names of fabric and design elements filtered through his ears on a daily basis. And when his mother was too busy to care for him, too caught up in dealing fabrics to stores and delivering designs to shoots, Myungjun spent hours in his father’s art studio in Suwon. He learned the meaning of the color wheel before he learned multiplication. His fingers were constantly stained with graphite. Marker streaks and paint stains became a staple of the wardrobe his mother had hand-crafted for him.

 

His family had made the move from Suwon to the Dongdaemun district in Seoul when he was in middle school. When he wasn’t in class or being ushered to art lessons, he was attached to his mother’s leg at fashion shows or beside his father at gallery showings. Myungjun got to meet the best designers and artists Seoul had to offer. His mother even brought him signatures from top models and idols, framed to hang on his wall (though now they live in plastic sleeves in a binder under his couch). Their family got to travel, too. Myungjun’s oldest brother was the pitcher of the nation’s best high school baseball team, and his family traveled to every game. Myungjun saw cities and small towns and could speak of extravagant restaurants and shops that his classmates had never even heard the names of.

 

In comparison to his elementary and middle school years, Myungjun’s high school life had been uneventful. His mother switched jobs, working at a popular fashion magazine after Myungjun’s first year. His father continued to produce art, some of which hung on their walls or in galleries and the rest being sold for profit. His brother left for college in his second year of high school and Myungjun landed an internship at the magazine his mom worked for, spending his time between working there and attending an afterschool art academy.

 

In a way, it seemed as if Myungjun’s entire life had been leading up to this job. Shortly after he graduated high school, he got a bigger job working for a rival magazine, which he dedicated all his time to. He quickly rose up the ranks from editorial assistant to copy editor and made connections with interns and the team of creative directors alike—people he still talks to today.

 

And then the position to be the assistant of Alexandra Kim opened. Myungjun wouldn’t have applied if he knew he would be standing here now. 

 

It’s barely past five in the morning and Myungjun needs to get his design out of his trunk and into the venue to either be approved for the shoot or to be tossed in the trash along with his job.

 

Myungjun carries the bag folded over his arm as he walks back to the venue. Miss Kim’s design had been for Dongmin; all black with velvet and faux fur and structured patterns that are so uniquely her style. Myungjun had combined pewter and indigo floral motif with an asymmetric coat and billowing pants for his design. As he weaves through the various photographers, makeup artists, and light technicians in the venue to find Miss Kim, his heart races. He’s going to lose his job. She’s going to hate his design and he’s going to lose his job. His design likely won’t even match the outfit set out for Bin. His design might not even  _ fit _ Dongmin.

 

Miss Kim is caught in a conversation with someone else when Myungjun reaches her. She’s shorter than he is but she commands the room with an aura of power and knowledge. Her hair is dyed a muted orange and cut in a sleek style with the front longer than the back. Someone has replaced her spilled coffee with a new one since he left and she holds it delicately in a hand adorned with rings. Dongmin and Bin, who had seemed attached to Miss Kim earlier, are nowhere in sight. Myungjun waits patiently at her side, tuning out the conversation in favor of observing the set instead.

 

The set isn’t terribly interesting. The normal white backdrop is a moody violet. There’s a flat gray couch angled sideways with a fake plant positioned behind it just so. Myungjun watches one of the set coordinators drag a fluffy white rug onto the backdrop. The shovel of anxiety in his gut continues to dig a deeper hole as he watches the set be arranged. 

 

What if he really does lose his job? He won’t have a way to pay his rent. He can barely afford it now. He won’t be able to afford gas for his car or even a city transit pass. He’ll probably have to move back in with his parents. His brother’s mocking face flashes before his eyes. Myungjun would rather be homeless than go back to living at home.

 

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

 

Myungjun grips the bag tighter in his hands. It’s far too late for him to back out now. He holds the bag up by the hanger, hiding behind it as Miss Kim pulls it open.

 

“Oh, Myungjun, this is—”

 

“Is that what I’ll be wearing now?”

 

Myungjun peeks around the bag, finding Dongmin peering over Miss Kim’s shoulder. He pulls his face back behind the bag again when Dongmin glances at him.

 

“I thought Director Seo specifically asked for no sheer clothing?”

 

“Director Seo is going to have to shut up and learn to take cues from the designer. Myungjun, darling, this will work perfectly.”

 

Myungjun gasps, lowering the bag to chest level. “It will?”

 

Miss Kim smiles brightly. “You might take my job from under my feet if you produce outfits like this every time.”

 

Myungjun suppresses the glee welling up in his chest, letting it come out only as a polite smile. “Thank you, Miss Kim. I promise I won’t let you down.”

 

“I know you won’t. Dongmin!”

 

Dongmin blinks at her shout. “I’m right here.”

 

“Of course you are. Take this, dear. Have your team alter it if they have to, but do  _ not  _ ruin it. They will never get to work with Alexandra Kim again if they ruin it.”

 

Dongmin raises a brow before nodding slowly. “Right.” His eyes find Myungjun and he flashes a smile. “Thanks— Myungjun, was it?”

 

Myungjun has enough sense to keep his jaw firmly shut as he nods in awe. Dongmin’s smile turns into a smirk before he turns on his heel and disappears to the other side of the set.

 

For the next half hour, the feeling of awe sticks with Myungjun. In his rush to get to the venue on time with Miss Kim’s design earlier, he hadn’t been able to relax and soak in the environment. He’s been on sets before but none of them have been this extravagant. Myungjun spots several well known makeup artists, as well as a hair stylist he knows works exclusively with celebrities. While previous sets were littered with fold out chairs and wobbling stools, every chair here seems laid out purposefully. One of the well-dressed staff members informs another that a makeshift media staging area outside has been shut down due to the overflowing capacity. This is a high production event of the likes Myungjun has only imagined.

 

Miss Kim shows him to a table of hors d’oeuvres and drinks (which a light technician says are for the crew only; Miss Kim snaps at him that they are part of the crew and he scurries away). Myungjun is introduced to Dongmin’s team, including his manager, Park Jinwoo. Bin’s team is occupied elsewhere, so Myungjun makes himself comfortable on a stool beside Jinwoo as a team of artists scurry after Dongmin who saunters toward the set’s couch.

 

Myungjun holds out his small plate with two unnamed hors d’oeuvres on it towards Jinwoo. “Here. You look like you haven’t eaten.”

 

Jinwoo blinks at him before smiling. “That obvious?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Not really. I just know the face of someone that doesn’t sleep enough. I see my own in the mirror often enough.”

 

Jinwoo laughs, taking a bite out of one of the hors d'oeuvres. “We don’t get enough credit.”

 

Myungjun wants to ask what it’s like to be Dongmin’s manager, but he doesn’t get the chance. Miss Kim calls him over from beside the main camera. Myungjun gives Jinwoo a polite goodbye and makes his way to Miss Kim’s side, careful not to trip on cords or the legs of lights.

 

“I want you to see every step of this, Myungjun,” Miss Kim says when he’s within earshot. “You’ve been to shoots before, but those were the minors. This is what it’s like to be on the set of the big leagues.”

 

Myungjun glances to the set, finding Dongmin sitting on the couch and Bin leaning against one of the arms. Both of them have people hovering around them, applying makeup to Bin and fixing Dongmin’s hair perfectly into place. They talk with one another casually, undecipherable words drifting to Myungjun from them. As two of the top models, it’s no surprise that they’re friends. What would it be like to be as admired as they are? Myungjun can’t stop the snake of jealousy curling around his heart.

 

The various people hovering around Dongmin and Bin walk off and the music that has been playing softly ramps up in volume. When Myungjun had found out last week that he would watch Bin in action from behind the camera, excitement had rushed through him. That excitement returns now. Myungjun finds his mouth slightly ajar after just a few minutes and he forces it shut as soon as he’s realized. The last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself.

 

Close to an hour after the first shot had been taken, Director Seo rises from her seat with a wave of her hand. “Let’s move on!” she calls. “Get Dongmin in his second outfit and get Bin something to eat.”

 

Myungjun stays glued to Miss Kim’s side as the crew moves around them. Dongmin and Bin are pulled away by their respective teams; Bin is seated in a chair to the side and Dongmin is taken out of sight. Miss Kim grabs Myungjun’s arm and pulls him right up to Director Seo.

 

“Jinhee,” Miss Kim calls, tapping Director Seo on the shoulder.

 

Director Seo turns around with furrowed brows, only for her expression to soften immediately at seeing Miss Kim. She’s taller than Myungjun, and he checks quickly if she’s wearing heels, only to find her barefoot. Myungjun is fairly certain he read she’s older than Miss Kim, too, but she could say she’s a college student and Myungjun wouldn’t doubt her for a second. He withholds his thoughts from Director Seo, however, as conversation blossoms between her and Miss Kim.

 

“Alex! I thought I  _ told  _ you no sheer.” Director Seo smacks Miss Kim’s arm.

 

“You can thank my assistant for that one. Myungjun, come here.”

 

Myungjun takes a step closer, bowing politely to Director Seo. “It’s an honor to meet you—”

 

“Oh, the formalities can wait! Are you enjoying your time on set?”

 

Myungjun straightens, swallowing. “It’s different from what I’ve seen before.”

 

Director Seo sighs lovingly as she glances towards Bin. “There’s something special about working with models like these two.”

 

“Myungjun, darling.” Miss Kim sets a hand on his elbow lightly. “Would you go get Director Seo and I some food from the table over there?”

 

It seems Myungjun won’t lose his role as assistant afterall. He nods, bowing before he turns away and heads to the table across the large room. Myungjun isn’t sure why he expects something different anymore. When he’d gotten sick one day last month, his coworkers said Miss Kim had  _ still  _ ordered everybody around her to run and get her food and coffee. This is Myungjun’s fate. He’s accepted that.

 

The table of food is unoccupied and unmonitored. Myungjun can’t name even half of the food spread out before him, but he makes a plate for both Director Seo and Miss Kim out of whatever looks good. He lays down a few of what looks like mozzarella sticks (though they aren’t; he ate one to see what it was) and something that looks like a small pancake with onions on top (they aren’t onions; he ate one of those, too). Myungjun is tasting what he thinks are mushrooms when a hand sets against the middle of his upper back.

 

“Is any of this stuff good?”

 

Myungjun looks up and to his right, his face too close with Bin’s for the second time that day. Bin blinks at him curiously.

 

“You’re not my manager.” Bin’s hand doesn’t move off his back. “You’re Alexandra’s assistant, right? You made what Dongmin was wearing?”

 

Myungjun has lost his voice. He nods.

 

Bin, luckily, is perceptive. He smiles, dropping his hand from Myungjun’s back. “Sorry if I scared you. I was looking for my manager and you two are the same height. Should’ve known from your hair.” Bin tilts his head, eyes scanning over Myungjun’s hair. “Do you dye it yourself or is it naturally that dark?”

 

Myungjun nods, more consciously this time. “Naturally.”

 

Bin’s smile widens, the right corner of his lips lifting first. “While I’m here”—Bin grabs something from the table at random, tossing it in his mouth and continuing to speak through his chewing—”I have to say I’m impressed with your design for Dongmin. It wasn’t was he was supposed to wear originally, but it works really well with the set.”

 

Did he hear that right? Did Bin just  _ compliment _ him? Myungjun has seen all the tabloid headlines.  _ Moon Bin Offends Fans. Moon Bin Seen With Yet Another Girl. Moon Bin Offers No Statement on Recent Dating Rumors. Moon Bin Hooked Up With One of His Staff.  _ Bin has a habit of popping up in unfavorable articles.

 

Bin continues the conversation right away. “I was kind of jealous when I saw what he was getting to wear. This”—he gestures at his outfit—”isn’t nearly as interesting. I thought the see-through shirt was a nice touch.”

 

That was definitely a compliment. Unsure what to say, Myungjun grabs something off the table at random and pops it, whole, into his mouth. Bin doesn’t seem bothered, simply continuing to talk.

 

“I was thinking I might even try to steal the coat from the set, but you probably would want it back.”

 

Myungjun wishes he hadn’t put so much food in his mouth. He shakes his head, staring at Bin with wide eyes. He covers his mouth as he speaks. “You can keep it if you want it.”

 

Bin grins, his eyes turning into cresents momentarily. “You mean it?”

 

Myungjun nods, swallowing the food. “I don’t have any use for it. It’s too big for me to wear.”

 

Bin pauses, his smile turning into a smaller one. “I bet it would look cute on you anyway.”

 

Myungjun coughs, covering his mouth. What had he done to warrant this kind of attention? Bin laughs shortly before reaching over the table to grab a small cup of water. He hands it to Myungjun as his other hand holds his elbow lightly. 

 

“Sorry,” Bin says through his laughter. “I guess I was too straightforward.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, though his cheeks burn. “It’s fine.”

 

“Bin! Food is here!”

 

“ _ There’s  _ my manager.” Bin’s hand drops from his elbow, but Myungjun can still feel the impression of his fingers against his skin. “Let’s talk again, yeah?”

 

Myungjun doesn’t get a chance to answer as Bin takes off toward his manager. He doesn’t have a chance to process what happened, either, Miss Kim appearing before him now.

 

“Wasting time getting back to us with the food,” she scoffs. “Myungjun, try to keep up.”

 

Myungjun holds the plastic cup carefully in his hands as Miss Kim walks away. His elbow tingles where Bin had held onto it. He knows without needing a mirror that his cheeks are pink. Surely he’s dreaming. There’s no way that happened. Myungjun takes a deep breath, glancing across the room to find Bin already smiling in his direction. He pulls his eyes away and focuses instead on finishing the small cup of water.

 

As the cameras begin to flash again, this time focused only on Dongmin, Myungjun finally makes his way back to Miss Kim’s side. He swears she has a weird sixth sense that tingles when he’s near so she can order him to do something. He hasn’t stopped beside her yet when she turns to him, pulling Director Seo to her side.

 

“Darling, get a picture of us and post it on my account, would you?” Miss Kim drawls, grinning widely.

 

Myungjun drags his phone out of his pocket as the two press side to side, arms around each other. His job as Miss Kim’s assistant doesn’t stop at formal assistant work. While he does have to arrange her schedule and make sure she knows what’s coming up, managing her social media has become a big part of his job as well. Director Seo returns to focus on Dongmin’s solo shoot as soon as Myungjun has taken the photo. He doesn’t take long to post it, not bothering to write a caption or add tags. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Miss Kim’s million and a half followers will see it on their own.

 

“Make sure you get some other photos while we’re here.” Miss Kim pats his arm. “Need to keep those followers interested.”

 

There could be no posts for a month and none of her followers would care, but Myungjun keeps that opinion to himself. Taking photos of the location gives him something to do anyway. He takes photos of the table of hors d’oeuvres and of one of the unused lights. There’s a rack of clothes outside what he assumes is Dongmin’s waiting room that he photographs. He squats at the corner of the backdrop, far out of range of the camera, and snaps a photo of Dongmin.

 

“Going to take a picture of me, too?”

 

Myungjun stands quickly, taking several steps back. Bin stays squatting in place. He’s eating an apple. Myungjun isn’t sure why that’s what he notices first, given the deep neckline of the shirt Bin has changed into and the way his hair is pushed back from his forehead. 

 

“I assume you’re taking photos for Alexandra’s accounts, though, right?” Bin stands, taking a step closer to Myungjun. “Are those your photos on her account?”

 

Myungjun nods. He’s lost his voice again. Why does this keep happening to him? He hadn’t expected being in the vicinity of Bin to be enough to make his skin warm. Myungjun is no more a fan of Bin than others interested in the fashion industry. He’s definitely on a level lower than that of Bin’s teen girl following. This is a professional situation. Why, then, does Bin seem determined to make Myungjun into a fool?

 

“They’re nice photos,” Bin continues, oblivious to Myungjun’s tension or just not caring. “I always sort of assumed she had someone take her photos for her, but seeing your hands— You have an artist’s hands. It makes sense that you can take good photos.”

 

First the compliments on his design and now compliments on his half-assed photography. Myungjun glances at his hands. They’re just hands, so why then does he feel so happy at Bin’s comment?

 

“I was joking when I asked if you were going to take a picture of me, by the way.” Bin grins, and it’s the same expression Myungjun has seen on the front of more than a dozen magazines. “At least when I’m dressed like this. I wouldn’t mind if you took photos of me when I’m dressed better.”

 

Why does Bin keep talking to him? He definitely isn’t the type of person normally roped into Bin’s dating scandals; he isn’t an up-and-coming female model or a moderately well known foreign male idol. If Myungjun expected any interaction with Bin during this shoot, it was a request to get him something. Myungjun wants to ask Bin’s intentions, but he can’t find the words. A different set of words slips from his lips instead.

 

“Can I take a picture with you?”

 

Bin stares at him, a slow smile coming across his face. Myungjun’s hand tightens around his phone. Why had he asked the last thing that had been on his mind? A photo with Bin will probably only rope Myungjun into an unnecessary rumor. He might get a couple of followers on Instagram for it if he posts it, but that isn’t how he wants to gain followers.

 

“So that’s why you can’t talk,” Bin laughs. “Let me say one thing: I’m just like you. I get nervous talking to cute guys, too. Only when I’m nervous, I talk a lot instead of not talking. I’m doing it now.”

 

Myungjun’s chin drops, and laughter spills out of Bin again.

 

“I’ll get that photo with you later.” Bin rests his free hand on his upper arm lightly, just for a moment, but it’s enough to make Myungjun’s skin burn. “Once I get changed fully, at least. You can find me by my chair over there.” Bin jerks his head in the direction, but Myungjun doesn’t need to look to know where to go.

 

Bin looks over his head, giving someone a thumbs up. “That’s my cue.” As he walks around Myungjun, he touches his shoulder lightly. 

 

One more touch from Bin and Myungjun swears he’ll turn to ashes.

 

Thankfully for Myungjun, that time doesn’t come. He sticks to Miss Kim’s side for the remaining three hours of the shoot. Bin takes photos alone, and then again with Dongmin in very different outfits from the first. As the shoot wraps up, Myungjun trails behind Miss Kim as she says goodbye to people and dumps her third finished coffee in the trash. Myungjun’s eyes droop. He watches where he steps so as to not trip over any of the cords that have been freed from the tape securing them to the floor. The last thing he needs is to damage the set after everybody has worked so hard.

 

He doesn’t hear a voice calling his name until Miss Kim rouses him from his daze and points over his shoulder. Jogging across the set, slipping between workers and camera crew alike, is Bin. He’s out of the fancy outfits he wore for the shoot, clad in a simple yellow shirt and white tapered pants rolled up at the bottom to show off his clean sneakers. Myungjun looks back to find Miss Kim for some sort of saving. Perhaps he would ask her to order him to do something, he isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Miss Kim is gone and Bin is by his side.

 

“Thought I was going to miss you,” Bin says in place of a greeting. “You never came over to the chair.”

 

Myungjun searches for an excuse. “Miss Kim ordered me to stay by her side. She really wanted me to see how things went behind the camera and how clothes look on camera in different lighting.”

 

Bin pouts. “She stole you away from me.”

 

His heart flutters.

 

“I’ll just have to tell her not to do that again.”

 

His heart stops. “What?”

 

Bin smiles. “She’s making something for me for a show in a month. I’m assuming she’ll make you tag along again for the fitting, and for that, I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t keep you away from me again.”

 

Myungjun can’t form a response. Bin doesn’t seem to mind, simply smiling widely at him while Myungjun stares at him in what he assumes is a blank manner.

 

Dongmin’s voice pulls Bin’s attention away long enough for Myungjun to find his breath again.

 

“We’re going for lunch, right?” Dongmin asks, slinging an arm around Bin’s shoulders.

 

Myungjun checks his watch. It’s a little early for lunch, but their bodies must run on a different sort of clock. Myungjun’s body runs on a clock that needs sleep. He stifles a yawn as Bin responds to Dongmin.

 

“Yeah, Seungkwan made reservations at that place you like downtown. Just enough seats for us four, though. Tell your team to head home.”

 

“Jinwoo already did.” Dongmin looks at him. “Myungjun, right?”

 

Myungjun nods. The shock of being face to face with Dongmin and Bin has worn off some. He notices the streaks of smeared makeup on Dongmin’s neck, small lines under Bin’s eyes. If he’s tired, he can’t imagine how they feel.

 

“I was just going to get a picture with him since he asked earlier,” Bin announces, grinning at Myungjun.

 

Myungjun’s tongue has swollen to fill his mouth. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to.

 

“I hope you’re not assuming I’ll pass up on a photo opportunity.”

 

“He doesn’t want  _ you  _ in the photo, Min. He asked for me. Right, Jun?”

 

_ Jun.  _

 

“Jeez, Bin, dial it back. You’re terrifying him.”

 

Myungjun is quick to shake his head, managing to find his voice. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

 

“See?” Bin slips an arm around Myungjun’s shoulder, turning them to face Dongmin. “We’re okay. I’ll catch you in the car, yeah?”

 

Dongmin eyes them, brows drawn together. Bin must be giving him a look because he nods and takes his leave.

 

“Let’s get that photo. Your phone?”

 

Myungjun tugs his phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t think to unlock it, and Bin looks at him expectantly for the password. Myungjun rattles off the numbers (why is he giving his phone password to a stranger?) and lets Bin tug him more into his side. Bin’s hand makes a peace sign close to his jaw. Myungjun only tries to regulate the apparent excitement on his face when he sees it through the camera in his phone. Has he had that look of wonder in his eyes the entire day?

 

“Say ‘Bin is the best’,” Bin sing-songs.

 

Myungjun turns his head to look at Bin in confusion as his phone loudly signals the photo has been taken. He doesn’t get a chance at a second photo, however. Bin is laughing, arm sliding off Myungjun’s shoulders as he hands his phone back.

 

“I have to catch Dongmin before he leaves without me. I hope we see each other again soon, Jun!”

 

Bin walks away from him, towards the exit, with the unmistakable gait of a well-trained model. Myungjun lets himself stare. He can’t deny himself of all pleasure in the situation.  As Bin disappears into the brightness outside, Myungjun realizes he can still feel the weight of Bin’s arm on his shoulders.

 

It takes Myungjun over half an hour to arrive at the moderately sized, two-bedroom apartment he shares with a co-worker. Myungjun kicks the door closed and drops his bag on the floor after removing his shoes. He sets his keys noisily beside his roommate’s wallet, hoping to rouse him from his sleep as it’s already late morning. Sanha’s soft snores continue to drift out of his small bedroom.

 

“Lucky intern,” Myungjun says to himself with a glance at Sanha’s slightly ajar door. Sanha doesn’t have to go into Miss Kim’s office on Sundays. He gets to sleep in. 

 

Myungjun falls onto the couch gracelessly, the faux leather cushion squeaking softly under his weight as it shifts. His phone digs into his hip but he can’t bring himself to look at the photo Bin had taken of them together. He knows his face will look silly. He’ll probably delete the photo right away, but that’s the last thing he wants to do. It’s a photo with Bin, afterall. Sanha at least should see it so he won’t think Myungjun is lying when he tells him what he’s gone through already this morning. He’ll only show it to Sanha, though. Myungjun needs proof to show Sanha the kinds of things he gets to experience as Miss Kim’s personal secretary. He doesn’t need the world to see whatever strange face he may be making. He won’t even look at it himself.

 

A car honks on the street below.

 

He’s too curious.

 

Myungjun prepares himself for the worst as he retrieves his phone. At first glance, he hardly recognizes himself. His face isn’t screwed into as strange of an expression as he thought, and his cheeks are dusted with pink. Bin’s are, too, he notices, and the far side of his hair is sticking out cutely. Why hadn’t Myungjun noticed that at the studio?

 

He’d been too distracted by Bin’s constant flirting. What had Myungjun done to be the target of Bin’s flirting? Nothing much, he supposes. He’s read the tabloids claiming Bin would flirt with anything cute with a heartbeat. That has to be the case.

 

Why does his heart race thinking over Bin’s words, then? There must be a small part of Myungjun hoping that the opposite of the tabloids is the truth. He must hope that Bin has a genuine interest in him. Myungjun lays his head back on the couch, his neck arched at an angle that aches. He doesn’t move, however, letting himself focus on the ache as a way to force the thoughts of the morning from his mind.

 

“Morning, Myung.”

 

Myungjun pulls his head upright quickly, his vision distorting momentarily. Sanha scratches his stomach under his shirt as he shuffles around the counters into the kitchen.

 

“Breakfast?” Sanha faces him with squinted eyes.

 

“I met Bin,” Myungjun blurts.

 

Sanha’s brows furrow, eyes squinting further. “Who?”

 

“Bin. Uh— Moon Bin, the model. I met him.”

 

Sanha’s eyes stretch, widening so far Myungjun can see the white completely around his irises. “You did what?”

 

“I met Moon Bin.”

 

“Yeah, I got that part. How? Where? When?”

 

Myungjun should make a bigger effort to explain himself when he talks. He could avoid the strings of questions like this if he did. “This morning. Miss Kim took me to a photoshoot and he was there. Her outfit got ruined and Lee Dongmin wore my design for the shoot.”

 

Sanha stares at him openly, mouth hanging open. Several seconds tick by before he speaks again. “ _ What _ ?”

 

Myungjun sighs. “It’s not that hard, Sanha. I went to a shoot for Moon Bin and Lee Dongmin this morning on Miss Kim’s orders.”

 

“And Lee Dongmin wore your design? What happened to Miss Kim’s design?”

 

“She spilled her coffee on it.”

 

“And she asked to use your design?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

Sanha crosses the room, flopping onto the couch beside him with limbs going everywhere. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

 

Myungjun recounts the day, sparing details where he knows he can get away with it. Sanha is too attentive, unfortunately, and picks up on most of his admissions of information. Myungjun has to recount every instance Bin flirted with him or touched him. Myungjun hands his phone to Sanha reluctantly, and Sanha stares at the screen for at least a minute before looking up at him with caution clear in his eyes.

 

“You know he flirts with everybody, right?” Sanha warns. “Don’t get attached to that.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t let his shoulders drop though his heart sinks. He knows Sanha is right, but there’s a part of him holding onto hope. Maybe Sanha is wrong. Maybe Bin really does like him.

 

“I mean it. Don’t get attached to him. You’ll just get hurt like all those other people.”

 

Myungjun swallows the bitter taste in his mouth, taking his phone back from Sanha. “I’m taking a nap,” he says sternly.

 

Sanha doesn’t object.

 

His room is too bright to sleep, however. He lays on his back and stares at the ceiling with his phone resting on his chest. Sanha is right. He  _ knows  _ Sanha is right. Myungjun unlocks his phone and pulls up the photo of he and Bin, and his body remembers the feeling of Bin’s arm around his shoulders. He’ll keep the photo. Though it’ll just be a reminder of the teasing feeling in his heart, he’ll keep the photo and he’ll continue to go on like the events of the morning were just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to have this new fic out! What did you think? I'd love it if you left me a comment and told me what you think~ You can also reach out to me [@snibwrites on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)!


	2. Make Yourself Scarce

 

In the four months he’s worked for Miss Kim, Myungjun has done a lot of odd jobs. He’s taken her cat to the groomers. He's fetched coffee orders for whomever she deemed worthy of his time and acted as a mannequin as she pinned pieces for alterations. He's even picked up fabrics from various locations across Seoul. Of all the jobs she has him do, having to take the trip up to her office is the worst.

 

This is the third time Myungjun is making his way to Miss Kim’s office since he arrived for work an hour ago. Rather than thinking of everything she would need for the fitting, she continues to send Myungjun to retrieve items. He scheduled Bin to arrive half an hour ago but the model has yet to show his face.

 

Myungjun takes care of an itch on his forearm as he waits for the elevator. With all the unavoidable interruptions, t’ll be fifteen or twenty minutes at least before he returns.

 

Miss Kim will be making alterations to a design Bin will wear for her winter exhibition. Myungjun checks his watch. Will he get lucky? If Bin doesn’t show at all, he can finally have his much-needed vacation day.

 

A ding interrupts the silence in the hall, and Myungjun’s shoulders sink. There are at least eight people in the elevator. Myungjun waits as they exit, head bowed. It’ll be easier if he can ride straight to Miss Kim’s office with nobody else on board. The fewer people and stops, the less Myungjun has to shove himself into the corner.  _ Make yourself scarce _ , Miss Kim had said on his first day. The focus is never to be on him, an assistant, when others are in the room.

 

Suede loafers plant themselves two feet in front of his own knock-off dress shoes. Myungjun does exactly what he’s not supposed to; he looks up at the person standing before him.

 

Bin grins down at him.

 

“I thought that was you!”

 

Myungjun blinks in surprise, closing his mouth as soon as he’s realized his jaw had dropped. Dressed in navy shorts and a pale blue button up, his hair styled and the thinnest ring of eyeliner emphasizing his already thick lashes, Bin is stunning. Myungjun glances to the group of people who exited with him—his team, though his manager is nowhere in sight. Catching Bin’s attention has several of them annoyed.

 

Bin is perceptive, it seems. He twists halfway around and waves a hand. “Go on. I’ll catch up in a little while.”

 

It seems Myungjun won’t be getting his vacation day.

 

Myungjun steps towards the elevator, pressing an arm against the side so the doors won’t close. “I have to go get something for Miss Kim. You should go see her.”  _ She’ll be upset if she knows I’m the one who kept you from showing up. _

 

“I’ll go with you.”

 

Myungjun studies Bin, his thin lips curved up at the ends and high dollar sunglasses hanging out of his shirt pocket. He wants to say no. He wants to tell Bin to keep walking, but the other has already stepped into the elevator.

 

Myungjun steps into the small space beside Bin. Miss Kim will yell at him, but Myungjun doesn’t have the authority to tell Bin no.

 

Bin’s eyes burn his skin. Myungjun hesitates to press the button for floor 35. He knows this is a terrible idea. Why had he let Bin join him?

 

“So where are we going?”

 

Myungjun glances to the side. Bin stands with hands in his pockets and a grin on his lips.  _ Stunning. _

 

“Miss Kim’s office.”

 

“So she’s sending you to get something for her.”

 

Myungjun nods.

 

“That’s stupid.”

 

Myungjun stares.

 

“I mean— She has two legs of her own.” Bin sighs, staring ahead at the doors. His brows have pulled together, making a line appear between them. “She can get her own things. You’re her assistant, not an errand boy.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t get the chance to respond. The elevator jolts to a stop to let in more people. Bin slides into place beside Myungjun, resting a hand on his mid-back as if it belongs there. Myungjun doesn’t expect his heart to race from a touch so simple. And yet, his body reacts, blood rushing into his cheeks to warm them. Bin notices, too, a smirk tugging the right corner of his lips upwards as he glances down at Myungjun.

 

“Sorry,” Bin whispers in his ear as they move again. His hand falls off of Myungjun’s back. “I thought it would be okay.”

 

“It is.”

 

Myungjun stares up at Bin. When had his face gotten so close? He can see Bin’s individual eyelashes. He turns his head, opting to stare at the back of the employee standing in front of him instead. Bin’s fingers skim up his back before his palm comes to rest between Myungjun’s shoulder blades.

 

Myungjun keeps his eyes down out of habit as employees enter and exit the elevator. He doesn’t return any of the looks directed at him due to his proximity to Bin. Bin gets none of the negative attention despite his reputation and because of his status.

 

“They shouldn’t do that here,” someone whispers as the doors slide shut. Myungjun isn’t sure he heard it until she glances back at them, eyeing the closeness of their bodies. He bites his tongue. They’re almost to Miss Kim’s office. He can handle a snide remark.

 

Bin stands a little taller, leaning until her gaze goes to his face. Myungjun knows he should be polite and look away, or else tell Bin to drop it. It’s too late.

 

“Is there an issue?” Bin asks. “Did you need to say something?”

 

She clearly didn’t expect a response to her side comment. None of the employees must have. The bolder ones look between the woman and Bin. The others shuffle in place. When they reach the next floor,  _ 32 _ , every employee leaves. Bin stands tall with his shoulders stiff as one of the male employees glances at them before the door shuts.

 

“Assholes,” Bin mutters.

 

Myungjun coughs to hide his laugh as the elevator rises again. It isn’t enough to fool Bin.

 

“What?” Bin asks, laughter tinting his voice with color. “They are! We weren’t kissing or groping each other.”

 

Myungjun’s cheeks burn. He adjusts the collar of his shirt. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

 

The number above the door reads  _ 33 _ .

 

“Why not? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. There’s nothing going on between us now, but there’s nothing wrong with being gay. You know that’s why she said that.”

 

_ There’s nothing going on between us now _ . The number above the door reads  _ 34. _

 

Myungjun swallows. “I’m not.”

 

The elevator slows, dinging as it stops on floor 35. There’s a moment before the doors open in which Bin speaks.

 

“You’re not what?”

 

Myungjun exits the elevator. The floor houses offices for the management of the company. As a high-ranking assistant, the company allotted one of the offices to him as well, but nobody has shown it to him. He simply leaves his personal items in Miss Kim’s office.

 

Bin follows a few steps behind Myungjun. “Wait, hang on.”

 

Myungjun ignores Bin's plea as he continues down the hall towards Miss Kim’s personal office. The management office lights are all off as is normal on a Monday. If it weren’t for the light coming in through the exterior windows, that half of the floor would be completely dark. Hardly any light comes through the frosted hall windows of Miss Kim’s office. Myungjun punches in the security code. The system beeps.

 

Bin holds the door closed before Myungjun has a chance to twist the handle. “You’re not what?”

 

Myungjun stares at the handle. “I’m not gay.”

 

Bin steps away from the door and Myungjun slips into the room.

 

“Are you sure?” Bin follows him into the office and shuts the door behind himself.

 

Myungjun stops halfway to the desk and scoffs as he faces Bin. “Yes, I’m _ sure _ .”

 

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, Myungjun.”

 

“I”m not—”

 

Myungjun clenches his jaw, teeth pressing together so tightly that it’s almost painful. Had he known upon waking up that he would be discussing the details of his personal preferences, he would’ve stayed in bed.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Myungjun walks the rest of the way to Miss Kim’s desk, pulling open a drawer to retrieve her cellphone. “I don’t know why you would care anyway.”

 

“Because I care about you and you shouldn’t hide that part of you.”

 

_ Because I care about you _ . Myungjun looks up from Miss Kim’s desk to Bin. “You care about me?”

 

“I mean”—he scratches the side of his neck, not meeting Myungjun’s gaze—”yeah. I know I don’t know you very well but I want to, and I care about you.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Bin’s words sound very close to a confession of romantic feelings. Myungjun can’t get wrapped up in dating rumors. He shouldn’t get wrapped up in a relationship with anybody or his work might suffer. Sacrifices are inevitable if he wants to become a top designer like Miss Kim. She had surrendered certain aspects of her life to achieve success, and Myungjun will do the same.

 

“It must sound weird.” Bin’s hand drops from his neck. “You’ve only met me once before, but now I’m prying into your personal life— I’m sorry.” Bin looks at him. “I should’ve kept my thoughts to myself.”

 

Myungjun swallows. He needs friends in the industry if he’s going to become a designer. He can allow himself to be friends with Bin, can’t he?

 

“No, you’re fine. It’s me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Myungjun scratches his head, sighing. “I’ve never told anybody. Even the— I dated two guys in secret and I never explicitly told them, either. It’s a sensitive spot.”

 

“Say it.”

 

“What?”

 

Bin takes a step closer to him, though he’s still several meters away. “You should say it out loud, even if it’s only once.”

 

Myungjun huffs. “What for?”

 

“If you tell one person, it’s easier to tell others the same thing later. Assuming you want to tell others instead of living in secret, that is.”

 

“What if I don’t want to tell you?”

 

“Then you don’t have to. You should only tell someone when you’re ready.”

 

Myungjun stares at Miss Kim’s desk, his reflection warped by the glass surface. He had dated once in high school. His secret boyfriend had also been an intern for the magazine company. Myungjun found solace in him. He was shy, like Myungjun, and hard-working, like Myungjun. The day a girl visited during lunch and kissed him was Myungjun's first heartbreak. His second relationship hadn’t gone much better. Things had become too physical too fast. Myungjun said no once and never heard from the guy again.

 

Myungjun takes in a deep, slow breath and lets it out fast. “I’m gay.”

 

“You’re what?”

 

Myungjun considers Bin and his kind smile making the corners of his lips curl upwards. He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m gay.”

 

Bin’s smile widens. “Do you feel better saying it out loud?”

 

“Uh.” Myungjun flattens his hair despite knowing it’s flat already. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Oh, come on.” Bin sets his hands on his hips. “Don’t you feel more confident about it?”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

Bin smirks. “I’m glad I could be your first.”

 

Myungjun covers his mouth as Bin’s eyes widen. He knows what Bin had meant, but, his mind brings a second meaning up almost immediately.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Bin rushes to say. “You know that, right? I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I’m glad that I was the first you told. I mean— I’m glad that you felt comfortable enough to tell me first. Not that it matters that it was me first. The first bit doesn’t matter. I’m glad you were comfortable enough to tell me, for whatever reason you decided to.”

 

Myungjun grins, dropping his hand. “I get it. I’m glad you were my first, too.”

 

Bin stares at Myungjun as pride grows in the latter’s chest. He can let himself flirt with Bin, can’t he? It’s harmless. It won’t cause any disruption in his work. Causing that reaction in someone has forced any and all worries to the back of his mind. He walks around the desk, crossing to Bin and patting his arm.

 

“You need to get down to Miss Kim before she sends someone up after us.”

 

“She’d do that?”

 

“She has before. Usually interns. That’s how I met Sanha.”

 

Bin asks questions about Myungjun’s home life on the ride down to Miss Kim, and Myungjun supplies answers. He tells him about Sanha and his parents and how he got into the industry in the first place. He learns that Bin’s parents had pushed him into modeling at a young age, too. Bin keeps his hands to himself as their conversation flows. Even when they’re joined by other employees, they continue to chat in low volumes. Finally on the proper floor, Myungjun leads the way with Bin's hands on his shoulders.

 

Bin’s hands drop away from Myungjun’s shoulders as they enter the room. Nine heads turn towards their laughter. Miss Kim’s lips are a tight line of disappointment; Bin’s team laze on the pair of couches; Sanha, standing beside Miss Kim, stares at Myungjun and Bin in surprise.

 

“You won’t have to fetch them after all,” Miss Kim says to Sanha. “Leave us.”

 

Myungjun chews on his bottom lip as Sanha leaves. The younger doesn’t glance at him, bowing direction as he passes. Miss Kim’s words echo in Myungjun’s mind.  _ Make yourself scarce.  _ Had she said the same thing to Sanha, to the other interns? A phantom hand restricts Myungjun’s throat. Silence lingers in the room even after the door closes behind Sanha’s departure.

 

“Myungjun.” Miss Kim’s voice is a bullet.

 

Myungjun bows his head out of habit. His stomach churns.  _ Make yourself scarce. _

 

“You should’ve sent Bin here instead of letting him trail along with you. We’re behind schedule now thanks to your antics.”

 

“That was my fault, not his.”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin sharply. What is he doing? Doesn’t he know that nobody can escape Miss Kim’s wrath? Bin stands tall, hands in his pockets and his jaw firm. The stance he’d taken against the female employee in the elevator had been protective. Now he’s on the offense. Myungjun lowers his gaze to the floor.

 

“Excuse me?” Miss Kim’s heels click against the floor as she crosses half the distance to them. “Bin, you are not in the wrong for arriving late. Your team told me there was traffic—”

 

“I made the choice to go with Myungjun when my team and I arrived. Don’t blame him for my tardiness.”

 

Silence hangs in the room like spiderwebs. One misstep and Bin will run right into them.

 

“Myungjun knows better than to behave how he has today. Coming into a room as he did now is—”

 

“A normal reaction to having a good time with someone.”

 

Myungjun closes his eyes. Miss Kim can’t fire Bin, so she’ll fire him. Myungjun is going to lose his job.

 

“I don’t care how much you’d pay me. I won’t work with someone that treats their employees with so little respect.”

 

Bin’s foot is on a landmine, but it’s rigged to explode under Myungjun. He clasps his hands behind his back, certain his knuckles have turned white. How is he going to tell Sanha he has to move out because he lost his job? He could go back to working for the magazine; he’s still friends with the chief editor. Even if he could get his job as a proofreader back, he’ll earn enough money to afford at least a small apartment.

 

“You’re completely right, Bin. I apologize.”

 

Myungjun opens his eyes, staring at the white tile floor.

 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

 

Each tap of Miss Kim’s heels drives Myungjun further into himself. By the time she’s standing in front of him, he's pressing his chin into his chest.

 

“Myungjun, I apologize. I hope you’ll forgive my outburst.”

 

Myungjun’s tongue ties itself in a knot in the back of his mouth. He nods.

 

“Wonderful!” Miss Kim claps her hands, twirling to face Bin. “Would you mind going behind the divider there and changing into the outfit? It’s hanging on a rack for you.”

 

Bin’s feet are slow to leave. Myungjun doesn’t breathe until Miss Kim has walked away from him. He closes his eyes for a brief moment to compose himself and untangle his tongue. There are more important things than his pounding heart and slick palms. Clearing his throat, Myungjun lifts his head and sets his shoulders back. He won’t make any mistakes from now until the end of the day.

 

Making no mistakes is easier said than done.

 

“Myungjun,” Miss Kim calls, “come here so I can fit this on Bin.”

 

He keeps his head down as he crosses the room. Bin is already standing on the platform with his feet shoulder-width apart and hands on his hips. Miss Kim kneels before him, snapping her fingers. Myungjun rushes to rescue the pincushion from the desk and offers it to her as he squats. She doesn’t glance at him or thank him as she tugs a pin off the cushion and pins the fabric where she’ll need to alter it. Of course, it won’t be her altering it. She has someone else to do that, too.

 

Slowly, chatter begins to flow. Miss Kim talks to Bin’s team freely, inquiring the details for the rest of their day and of their personal lives. They readily supply answers as most do when speaking with her. Myungjun juggles the pincushion and Miss Kim’s phone with little trouble.

 

Miss Kim hums, interrupting one of Bin’s team members. “Would any of you like snacks or a drink? I’ll have an intern fetch it.”

 

Myungjun’s chest caves as Miss Kim walks away from his side to the door of the room. Bin’s hand settles on his shoulder.

 

Myungjun swallows and looks up to meet Bin. He has kind eyes, their color so deep Myungjun almost can’t tell his iris from his pupil. He has to crane his head back rather far given the half meter tall platform Bin stands on. Even in the odd angle, Bin is amazing. Myungjun doesn’t stop himself from looking Bin over once.  _ Round nose. Broad, muscular shoulders. Strong arms. Slim waist. Nice hips. Long legs.  _ He finds Bin’s face again as his cheeks grow warm.

 

“Are you okay?” Bin mumbles. He smiles, but it’s apologetic. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

 

“Make it up to—”

 

Miss Kim plucks another pin from the cushion, snapping Myungjun out of the daze Bin had put him in so quickly. There’s a flash of anger, a warning, in her stare before her eyes drag to Bin’s hand on his shoulder. Bin’s touch is light but it doesn’t move.

 

“Bin, pick up your arm for me.” Miss Kim smiles up at him, but Myungjun can see the veiled spite in her expression.

 

Bin hesitates, his fingers lingering on Myungjun’s shoulder for a moment too long. Miss Kim glares at Myungjun. The rage arrives and departs so quickly that Myungjun is sure he’s the only one who sees it.

 

When Miss Kim walks away again, this time to answer a call, Bin is quick to connect with Myungjun. He bends the necessary amount to be eye-to-eye with Myungjun as a smile splits his face in two.

 

“She’s something else,” he mutters. “Do you have to deal with this all the time?”

 

“It’s not bad.” Myungjun ducks his head. “She just gets in a mood sometimes.”

 

“Does sometimes mean at least once an hour?”

 

Myungjun frowns. “I’ve improved a lot since working with her, and I’ve learned a lot. I like working here.”

 

Bin’s smile falls away. “I still feel bad. You only got in trouble because of my mistake. We can go for a late lunch after this, can’t we?”

 

“That’s not a good idea.”

 

Bin sighs. “Why not? It’s after work, so she can’t get mad at you for us hanging out. I want to get to know you better. Is that such a bad idea?”

 

_ Yes.  _ “It’s not that.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

_ I can’t let myself get involved with you like that.  _ Myungjun shakes his head. “Never mind.”

 

“You can’t just—”

 

“It was another editor,” Miss Kim says as a way of announcing her return.

 

Myungjun bites his tongue as Bin straightens.

 

Miss Kim surveys Bin as she speaks. “They keep asking for interviews, but I have to keep telling them that now isn’t a good time. That show is only in a few weeks, and well”—she gestures at the room—”I’m busy.”

 

Myungjun nods in agreement, taking Miss Kim’s phone when she holds it out.

 

“The one today was from a small magazine anyway. Like the one you worked at before, Myungjun.” She sighs. “It wouldn’t have been worth my time.”

 

Myungjun bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t start bleeding. The magazine had been his first real job. His chest twists with the implication that a smaller company isn’t worth someone’s time. He reminds himself that Miss Kim is a busy woman whose time is important. She has the right to turn down any requests from any magazine.

 

“Maybe you should’ve given them a chance,” Bin says. “Some of the best articles written about me are from small magazines and websites.”

 

Miss Kim glances up at him but changes the topic. “We’re done for today. You can change back into your clothes, but be careful not to move any of the pins.”

 

Myungjun places the pincushion back where he had found it, setting Miss Kim’s phone beside it. He feels sick. The back of his head aches and his stomach is scrambled. Myungjun leans on the desk to stabilize himself as he closes his eyes. Miss Kim will send him home once Bin and his team are gone, won’t she? He might have to ask to go home early if she doesn’t.

 

A hand slides onto his lower back. Blinking, Myungjun peeks at Bin.  _ He’s more than handsome. _

 

“I meant to ask earlier, but I didn’t get a chance. Did you design your shirt— Are you okay?” Bin’s words, colored with worry, spill out faster. “Do you feel sick?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, touching his cheek. “I’m fine. No fever.”

 

Bin isn’t satisfied. He holds Myungjun's waist with one hand and moves his bangs away with the other. Bin’s palm presses against his forehead for several seconds before he pulls away.

 

“You should go home,” Bin suggests. “Just because you don’t have a fever doesn’t mean you aren’t getting sick.”

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

He hadn’t meant to say it, at least not so harshly, but the words tumble out of him like ice cubes from a refrigerator. Bin is either too nice or too dumb to be offended by the tone of Myungjun’s voice. His lips curl into a small smile and his thumb rubs Myungjun’s waist. Myungjun hates how comforting it feels. He hates that he wants to press into Bin’s hand. A relationship of any kind of Bin would be bad, wouldn’t it?

 

“Because I care about you,” Bin near-whispers. “I want to be your— I want us to be friends.”

 

“Your team is leaving.”

 

Myungjun looks at Miss Kim sharply, her rage masked at the last second. He takes a step away from Bin and the other’s hand slides off his waist.

 

“I wouldn’t want them to leave you behind,” Miss Kim continues, eyes on Bin alone. “I sorted out your schedule to come back and try on the outfit again after I complete the alterations.”

 

Bin nods slowly. “Right. I’ll get going, then.” He looks at Myungjun, his smile returning for a brief moment. “See you again, Myungjun.”

 

Miss Kim walks Bin to the door. It shuts with a resolute thud, and her heels click across the tile as she returns. Why does the sound intimidate him so much? Myungjun bows his head.

 

“No more stunts,” Miss Kim reprimands, standing in front of him. “The  _ only  _ reason why I said to you what I did is that I didn’t want to lose Bin as a client. You are _ my _ assistant and you follow  _ my _ rules. Do you understand?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“I was very clear when I accepted you into this position, was I not? Anybody can fill your position, Myungjun. It’s not a hard spot to fill. There are people who might even be a better assistant than you are, but you’re here because I saw potential in you. It’s up to you if you want to take advantage of this situation. If you pull another stunt like today, coming in here late with Bin— You do know that was  _ your  _ fault, right?”

 

Myungjun clenches his hands behind his back. “Yes, Miss Kim.”

 

“Apologize.”

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept Bin—”

 

“ _ Moon _ Bin. I thought I taught you better about your place, Myungjun. Don’t treat him so familiarly. He is a client and nothing more. You still have much to learn, or you’re stupid. Don’t make another mistake, or you’ll be on my bad side.”

 

Myungjun stares at Miss Kim’s shoes. “I understand. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

 

“This is your only second chance. Don’t fuck it up. You’re dismissed for the day.”

 

Miss Kim’s heels carry her out of the room, the door slamming behind her. Myungjun’s breath shakes as he exhales. He can’t lose this job. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. There are people who would eat dirt for a chance to work with Miss Kim, but he’s lost sight of how valuable his time with her is. He can’t let himself get distracted anymore. If achieving success like Miss Kim means he has to follow her rules, then he will. He will bide his time and be a good assistant. He will not let Moon Bin or his feelings get in the way of that.

 

Myungjun arrives at the 35th floor alone. His bag is where he left it in her office that morning. Words echo in his head as he contemplates the office.  _ Because I care about you.  _ He slings his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the tightness of his chest as he goes back to the elevator. Moon Bin can’t be anything more to him than a client. He’ll tell him that the next time he sees him, whether it be tomorrow or in a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A question for everybody: What do you think of Miss Kim? Leave me a comment and let me know! Or, if you want, come find me on Twitter [@snibwrites](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)!


	3. Only a Client

Myungjun is the recipient of many perks as Miss Kim’s personal assistant. Some of them apply to his work. He has a designated parking spot, his own office, and free access to the company cafeteria. The perks not for his work are more lavish. He receives discounts at select luxury stores, stock options with Miss Kim’s company, and free access to a high-end gym in south Dongdaemun. The last of these is the one Myungjun fails to take advantage of.

 

Between working six (sometimes seven) days a week, designing for himself, and keeping up with friends and family, Myungjun had let  _ go to the gym  _ slip off his daily to-do list. Thirty-seven minutes on the bus with two transfers puts the luxury gym far out of his neighborhood. Miss Kim has given Myungjun an extra day off to relax in the week leading up to the show. He can finally make the trip if for nothing else than a day of relaxing in an upper-class neighborhood.

 

The echoes of Myungjun's footsteps greet him in the otherwise empty gym foyer. His first trip to the gym had been in the morning. Women and men in groups wearing designer athletic wear had packed the space. Conversation and laughter had floated through the gym as if it was a gossip club. His second trip to the gym had been in the evening. He’d followed two men in 3 piece suits into the building, and the strong smell of sweat had assaulted his nose in every room. His third trip had been in the middle of the afternoon. He'd shown up when all the rich women without jobs left to pick up their children from private academies and the businessmen from the morning would leave to prepare for “business” meetings in the evening. Myungjun sidesteps one of these businessmen, shouting into his Bluetooth earpiece. As the door closes behind him, it’s silent.

 

“Okay,” Myungjun says into the foyer, staring up at the vaulted ceilings, “let’s get something done.”

 

The facility is large, so Myungjun has never had a chance to explore every room until now. He finds a swimming pool with a hot tub to the side. The locker rooms are in the basement, and he takes a moment to stuff everything aside from his phone and headphones into one of them. The showers boast luxury shampoo and soap for patrons, and tucked into a room he almost missed is a flat screen TV with a dozen plush chairs set in front of it.

 

_ The life of the rich and famous _ , Myungjun thinks. He couldn’t afford a membership to the gym and sends quiet thanks that he had landed a job with luxury perks.

 

Myungjun finds a half tennis court and a rock climbing wall on the second floor adjacent to a room he assumes houses various classes. There’s a room of only stationary bicycles and another of only elliptical machines. The third floor boasts a basketball court where Myungjun spends several minutes trying to shoot from the 3-point line. Surrendering his personal challenge, Myungjun makes his way back to the second floor in search of the treadmills.

 

Yet, gentle music lures Myungjun away from his pursuit. It doesn’t last long, cutting out before Myungjun can even identify the song. He stops in the hall, pausing in hopes it will turn on again. The sound of metal against metal replaces the song. Myungjun follows the sound down the hall, peeking through blinds hanging on windows and into any open doors.

 

Two men face each other in a room with a door ajar. Myungjun immediately recognizes their sport as fencing from the masks over their faces and the long, thin blades. They leap at one another, forcing each other into a back and forth dance. Myungjun stands in the doorway, mesmerized by their quick movements. Every so often, one of them calls out “point” as their blades connect, leaving a dot of red chalk on the other person’s white shirt. Their speed hardly slows even when they call out.

 

An alarm sounds from a phone, and their postures relax. Myungjun ducks out of view. It isn’t wrong to watch, but he’s embarrassed nonetheless.

 

“You’re getting rusty, Bin,” says a deep voice. Myungjun’s heart freezes in his chest.

 

“You try finding time to practice with my schedule!” Bin’s voice is different, familiar and warm. “Hey, toss me a water.” There’s a thunk as Bin, presumably, catches a bottle.

 

“Quit, then.” A grunt and the sound of metal clanking accompanies the squeak of shoes. “You sound like you hate it.”

 

“On the contrary. I love it more than anything else I’ve done.”

 

“More than fencing?”

 

“Definitely more.”

 

Curiosity eats away at Myungjun. He twists, poking his head around the doorway only enough to see into the room. Sitting with his back against the wall is a handsome man with a straight nose and thick brows. A model, Myungjun thinks, as he looks over his somewhat familiar face. There’s an exercise ball in the corner, held in place by a pile of bags and towels. Bin stands in the center of the room, the fencing mask under his arm as he drains the contents of the bottle. He caps it, tossing it at his friend.

 

Myungjun ducks out of sight before he's spotted. He has as much right to be here as Bin, as his friend, as anyone. He won’t leave, but if he can avoid Bin, he will. He has to control his thoughts and emotions or else get into trouble with Miss Kim. She had made it very clear on his first day that her rules apply even outside of the office.

 

Myungjun leaves Bin and his friend to their fencing. He finds a room with treadmills facing large floor-to-ceiling windows; benches, machines, and free weights occupy the rest of the room. His mind empties as he picks a treadmill at random. He plugs in his headphones, ups the speed to the beat of his music, and observes the world beyond the window before him.

 

A clang breaks through his focus and he stumbles before righting himself. Glancing over his shoulder, Myungjun spots a sheepish Bin seated on a bench with hands raised in peace, arms on full display thanks to his tank top. Myungjun removes his earbuds and slows his treadmill until he can step off it.

 

“What are you doing here?” Myungjun asks. He sounds more defensive than he intended.

 

“I’m here four times a week,” Bin says. “I should be the one asking why  _ you’re  _ here.”

 

Myungjun notes the dumbbells on the floor, likely the cause of the noise that had interrupted him. “I get a free membership here as Miss Kim’s assistant,” he says.

 

Bin’s brows raise. “Living the high life as an assistant, then. I wouldn’t have guessed her to be that nice to you.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “She’s always—” The conversation from two weeks ago, after Bin departed from his fitting, plays through his mind again. “She’s nice enough. Bosses have to be hard on their employees sometimes.”

 

Bin nods shortly. “Okay. Well, don’t let me get in the way of your work out.”

 

Myungjun hesitates. He should leave and avoid any further conversation. Bin smiles, though, pinning Myungjun’s heart to the wall of the room. He can’t leave now, not when he might see that smile again.

 

Myungjun returns to the treadmill, but he opts to leave his earbuds out. Bin might want to talk. He doesn’t want to be  _ rude _ . As he finds his stride, the dumbbells rattle again and Bin pants. Myungjun resists the urge to turn and watch, finding a blurry reflection of Bin in the window plenty enough to satiate his curiosity. He watches Bin’s reflection move from bench to machine and back to bench. Bin leaves the room and Myungjun lets out a heavy breath, letting himself sag. He right himself again when Bin returns a moment later.

 

The silence between them, only slightly uncomfortable, continues as Bin takes up the treadmill to Myungjun’s left. Myungjun keeps his eyes forward, though he catches glimpses of Bin’s form in his peripheral vision. It isn’t fair. Bin—despite being sweaty, or maybe in addition to—looks  _ good _ . He’s pushed his bangs off his forehead, and his tank top hugs his torso. His arms swing, a bigger distraction to Myungjun’s focus than he’d like to admit.

 

Bin slows while Myungjun keeps his pace. A normal person would leave the treadmill once done, but Myungjun assumes Bin isn’t normal. He leans on the treadmill, eyes glued to Myungjun. It’s unnerving, and Myungjun almost loses his footing as he glances at Bin.

 

“Why are you staring at me?” Myungjun snaps, facing forward again.

 

He can hear the smile in Bin’s words. “Don’t mind me. I’m only admiring the view.”

 

Myungjun trips and Bin moves as if to catch him. Myungjun stands on the edge of the treadmill, lowering the speed until it stops. He glances around the room, completely empty. If the tabloids Myungjun has read are true, Bin will flirt with anything. Some assume he does it for attention; others assume it’s for drama. In an empty room, however, Bin would have no motivation of the sort. Paparazzi couldn’t see them unless they were on the roof of the building across the street. Myungjun checks it, finding nobody.

 

“The view is out the window,” Myungjun gripes, stepping off the treadmill.

 

“Depends who you ask, doesn’t it?” Bin watches him with eyes like a hawk.

 

Myungjun stares at Bin. “What’s the point?”

 

“Also depends who you ask.” Bin stands upright. “You ask a fencer, they’ll say the point is the button of their blade. Ask a psychologist, they’ll probably have a dozen different answers for you.”

 

Myungjun sighs. “I mean of  _ this _ . You’re so nice to me. Why?”

 

Bin shrugs. “I like you. You’re handsome. You seem talented.”

 

“You  _ actually  _ like me?”

 

Bin scoffs. “Of course I do. I don’t see how you think anybody couldn’t. I mean, you’re charming even when you’re not trying to be.”

 

“I made the— What’s going on?”

 

Myungjun turns to face the entrance to the room, spotting Bin’s friend as he strides in. He’s tall, even taller than Bin, reminding Myungjun why he’s a designer and not a model.

 

“Sungyong!” Bin is quick to drag his friend over. “This is who I was telling you about—”

 

“Myungjun?” Sungyong looks between Bin and Myungjun before grinning. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you. Bin won’t shut up about—”

 

Bin jabs his elbow into Sungyong’s side, cutting off what he was going to say.

 

“The designer, right?” Sungyong continues, rubbing his side. “Alexandra Kim’s assistant?”

 

Myungjun eyes Bin, nodding. Bin had talked about him to his friends?

 

“I saw the photos of that shoot Bin did with Dongmin. Bin says you designed that outfit with the sheer shirt and the floral jacket. I’m impressed. I was actually almost jealous Dongmin got to wear something that nice.”

 

Myungjun stares for a moment before catching himself. “Oh, uh— It’s nothing, really. Thank you.”

 

“Do you want to join us?”

 

Bin glares at Sungyong, his eyes throwing razors at his friend, but Sungyong isn't fazed.

 

“Join you?” Myungjun asks. “I don’t— What?”

 

Sungyong grins. It’s different from Bin’s smile. Bin’s smile is lopsided, toothy. Sungyong’s lips stay pressed together as he smiles. “I made us reservations at one of the best restaurants. Do you want to come with us?”

 

Dinner with Bin and Sungyong. Myungjun furrows his brows. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You two already had plans for yourselves.”

 

Bin rubs his neck, turning to face Myungjun. “Casual plans,” he says. “This isn’t something we’ve been planning for weeks. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too.”

 

Myungjun looks between them. Tall, handsome, broad shoulders— Wouldn’t Myungjun look out of place beside them at, presumably, a high-class restaurant?

 

“I’d love to talk to you about your designs, actually,” Sungyong says. “I’ve modeled for a long time, but I’m considering changing focus to being the one making the clothes.”

 

It couldn’t hurt anything, could it? Myungjun knows he should deny the request. After all, they  _ are  _ models and he’s an assistant. Bin is a current client of his boss's. Wouldn't people talk? Myungjun doubts Miss Kim would pass up working with Sungyong. It’s sort of business, isn’t it? Sungyong wants to talk design. Myungjun can do that much. Maybe he can even convince him to walk for Miss Kim’s spring exhibition.

 

“Sure.” Myungjun smiles. “I’ll need to shower before we leave, though. And I don’t think I have the proper clothes.”

 

Sungyong waves his hand. “It’s nowhere fancy. People show up in shorts and sandals all the time.” He claps Bin on the shoulder. “I need to talk to Bin in private for a minute, though.”

 

Myungjun nods. “Right. I’m going down to the showers.”

 

“Wait for us in the foyer and we’ll leave together!” Sungyong calls after him as he leaves the room.

 

Myungjun gets lost twice on the way to the showers, his thoughts wrapped in fog. A meal with models. He feels like a fool for agreeing to something so bizarre. If he can't get Sungyong to agree to walk for the spring show and Miss Kim finds out, she may fire him. Everything he does reflects on her and the company. He isn’t in the shadows. People  _ know  _ who he is from the countless times he’s been spotted around Miss Kim. He can’t screw it up.

 

Chatter drifts through the sound of Myungjun’s shower halfway through washing his hair. A shout follows a bout of laughter, and Myungjun can’t move. He stays still in his privacy behind the heavy curtain as people approach.

 

“Still in here, then, Myungjun? It’s Sungyong.”

 

Myungjun swallows. “Y-Yeah! Still here.”

 

“You’ll probably finish up before us. Don’t chicken out, all right? I was serious about picking your head over design.”

 

“On and on he goes,” Bin groans. There’s the sound of a towel snapping, followed by laughter.

 

The rushing water drowns out their voices, but Myungjun doesn’t want to hear their conversations anyway. He isn’t doing this to make friends. He’s going to a meal with them for business. After rinsing his hair and washing his body, Myungjun shuts off the shower and grabs the towel from the rack outside. Sungyong laughs a lot, the sound bouncing around the tiled room.

 

Myungjun takes his time dressing, ears straining to pick up the soft conversation from Sungyong and Bin. Why had Sungyong wanted to speak to Bin alone? Was it about him? Was it about how Bin had been flirting with him? Was tonight some sort of ploy by Bin to get closer to him? Myungjun leaves his towel in the hamper at the edge of the locker room and makes his way to the foyer to wait.

 

Bin joins him first. Drastically different from his work out attire, he wears khakis paired with a white dress shirt with a band collar, the top buttons undone to leave his collar bones exposed. Myungjun directs his eyes to the floor to avoid being caught staring.  _ This is business _ , Myungjun reminds himself.

 

“Have you ever fenced before?” Bin stops a few feet away, leaning against the wall with his shoulder.

 

“Fenced?” Myungjun looks at Bin sharply. Had Bin caught him?

 

“Yeah, fencing. You were watching Sungyong and me earlier. I thought you might want me to teach you.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head quickly. “No, that’s not it. It was just impressive to watch.”

 

Bin hums. “Anything else you find impressive?”

 

Bin set him up for that. It grates at Myungjun’s nerves how easily Bin can untie him, tugging his guard down before he realizes. He’d done it at their first meeting, winding Myungjun up until he was almost comfortable with Bin’s arm around his shoulders. He’d done it at their second meeting, getting Myungjun to admit out loud what he had never verbalized before. He’s doing it now, and Myungjun won’t have it.

 

“The only thing that’s impressive is how you get any shirts over your head when it’s so big. I don’t see how you could manage.”

 

Bin smirks. “With a little effort. Same way I manage to get my pants on.”

 

Myungjun’s jaw goes slack, his ears growing warm. “You—”

 

“Ready to go?” Sungyong appears at Bin’s elbow, the coral of his short sleeved button up matching the shine of his smile.

 

“Ready,” Myungjun gripes, turning on his toes to stalk out the front door.

 

A teenage girl is in his face immediately, trying to peek beyond him. “Is Bin in there?” she asks.

 

Myungjun takes a step back, the door behind him gone. He staggers, catching his balance with a helpful hand from Bin on his back.

 

“Bin!” the girl shouts. “Bin, I’ve been out here waiting for you. Please, can you sign this?” She thrusts a thick piece of paper past Myungjun’s face, right at Bin.

 

Bin sidesteps Myungjun and Sungyong, leading the girl out of the doorway so they can exit. “This isn’t the place to be doing this,” Bin reprimands her. “Did you follow me here?”

 

“I—” She curls into herself. “I heard rumors you came here sometimes. They wouldn’t let me inside without a membership card, but—”

 

Bin scratches the back of his neck. “Don’t come here anymore, okay?” He takes the paper from her, folding it before handing it back. “There’s a time and place to be a fan. This isn’t it.”

 

Sungyong touches Bin’s forearm. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

 

Myungjun follows them down the street, glancing behind himself to see the girl videoing them with shaky hands. He takes large steps to catch up with the other two.

 

“She recorded us, I think,” Myungjun says, coming to Sungyong’s side.

 

He nods. “Fans do that. They’re not always the most considerate, especially of personal privacy.”

 

“I’m going to have to change gyms,” Bin sighs. “It starts with one. That’s what drove me out of my last apartment, but security was terrible there anyway.”

 

Bin turns at the street corner while Sungyong stops in place. Myungjun raises a brow. “What’s going on?”

 

“Give it a second,” Sungyong says. “He’ll realize he’s going the wrong way in three… two…”

 

Bin stops, head dropping forward. Myungjun stifles his laughter better than Sungyong. Bin turns, glaring at both of them.

 

“Were you going to just let me go?” Bin starts back toward them. “What if I kept walking?”

 

“You always make the turn too early,” Sungyong says. “One more block to the parking garage.”

 

Bin scowls. “Shut up.”

 

A valet brings them Sungyong’s car. Both of them offer him the passenger seat, and though he refuses several times, Bin opens the door and corrals him inside. The fifteen-minute drive to the restaurant is filled with superficial conversation and off-key singing to the radio from Sungyong. Myungjun stands to the side as he watches another valet take Sungyong’s car when they’ve arrived.

 

He’s a bit too preoccupied with the valet, in fact. Bin places a gentle hand on his back. “Come on, our table’s waiting.”

 

Myungjun does his best not to gawk. Chandeliers hang from every ceiling with enough space to permit them. Where the room isn’t lit by chandeliers, it’s lit by elaborate silver sconces. Myungjun stops to let a train of waitresses through with food. Perhaps he shouldn’t have, as he loses sight of Bin and Sungyong entirely.

 

Had someone told Myungjun even a month ago that he would be dining at such a high-class restaurant with models, he would’ve laughed. Opportunities continue to present themselves in the most bizarre manners. Myungjun follows the walkway in the direction he thinks the host had led Bin and Sungyong.

 

“ _ There  _ you are.” Bin grabs Myungjun’s elbow. “Wandering off.” He grins. “Is it too much for you?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, watching an idol leave their table. “I’m fine,” he squeaks.

 

Bin gestures to the right. “Table’s this way.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t let himself lose sight of Bin this time, making it to the table where their glasses are already filled with wine. For the first time since agreeing, an alarming thought strikes Myungjun: how is he going to pay for this?

 

Sungyong is a mind reader. “Treat yourself to whatever you’d like, Myungjun. As thanks for letting me bore you with questions.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “It’s fine. Any questions you have, I’d love to answer them. I’m in this field for a reason, aren’t I?”

 

Sungyong nods. “Right. So, how did you even get started?”

 

Myungjun plays with the edge of the menu. How expensive are the meals? “My mom was a designer,” he starts. “Or she worked for one, I should say. She worked for a tailor until I was in high school, then she switched to writing for a fashion column at a magazine. My dad’s an artist, and he taught me most of what I know about color and color theory.”

 

“Color theory.” Sungyong leans forward. “I have a lot to learn.”

 

Conversation with Sungyong is easy. Myungjun could talk to a brick wall for days about design elements and fabric choices and artistic interpretation. He rarely has the opportunity to discuss such topics with someone as interested in them as he is. So caught up in their exchange, Myungjun doesn’t think to protest when Sungyong orders a meal for him. In fact, he doesn’t think of much outside their conversation until Bin’s foot knocks against his under the table.

 

“Have you thought about making your own company?” Bin asks, eyes serious. “I mean, you don’t get to design for Kim. You’re just her assistant.”

 

Myungjun sighs, nodding. “I’d love to have my own line, or even have one of my designs thrown in with Miss Kim’s, but it’s hard to get lucky like that.”

 

Bin frowns. “You deserve to be recognized. What you had for Dongmin was better than what she made.”

 

“What?” Myungjun’s eyes grow so large he thinks they might pop out of their sockets. “I couldn’t even compare to her designs. I have so much to learn from her.”

 

“You should listen to him,” Sungyong says. “Bin knows a good design when he sees one. I’m sure you’ll get your chance someday, and then I’m sure everyone will be asking you to design things left and right.”

 

Myungjun ducks. “Thanks.”

 

They finish their meals rather soon after the bout of compliments directed at Myungjun. Sungyong finishes a second glass of wine while Bin finishes both of their plates. Myungjun relaxes more and more the longer they sit together making idle conversation. He and Sungyong do most of the talking. The chatting is a welcome distraction from the caterpillars that run from Myungjun's stomach to his chest every time he catches Bin watching him. When Sungyong steps away to call for a driver to take him home, Myungjun trains his eyes on the table.

 

“Feeling okay?” Bin asks as he leans towards Myungjun.

 

Myungjun glances at him, nodding. “I’m fine.”

 

“How was your food?”

 

“It was nice.”

 

Bin watches him for a moment and scoots his chair closer. Myungjun looks anywhere but at Bin.

 

“So I do make you nervous.”

 

Myungjun scoffs. “You do not.”

 

“I do. You won’t even look at me.”

 

Myungjun says nothing.

 

“Did Miss Kim get mad at you after I left? Is that why you’re trying to ignore me?”

 

Myungjun should’ve known Bin is perceptive. “She did, but that isn’t why. I’m ignoring you for my own reasons.”

 

“Which are?”

 

Myungjun huffs, facing Bin. He hadn’t realized how close Bin had gotten and quickly pulls away, lest someone see them and thinks something more intimate is happening. “I don’t have to tell you.”

 

“Jun, come on.”

 

_ Jun. _

 

“I thought we had something going last time. I meant it when I said I care about you. Just— Is it something I did or said? Can you at least tell me that?”

 

“It’s you in general,” Myungjun says. “You’re Miss Kim’s client, and you should be only that. Things get too complicated if people mix work and play, and I won’t give up my job with Miss Kim when I hardly know you.”

 

Bin smiles. “I can respect that. You can’t let a job get in the way of having a social life, though.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “I’m not—”

 

“My ride’s here—” Sungyong stares at them. “I’m gonna go. The meal’s on me, guys.”

 

Myungjun stands. “Wait! I have a favor to ask.”

 

Sungyong nods. “What is it?”

 

“Will you walk for Miss Kim’s spring show?”

 

Sungyong laughs. “I’d love to. Let me give you my manager’s number.” He grabs a napkin from the table and gets a pen from a waitress, scribbling down a series of numbers. “Let her know pretty soon. She likes to schedule me things months in advance, and I’d rather walk in a show like that than do anything else. See ya!”

 

Myungjun tucks the napkin into his wallet, sighing in relief. He’d almost missed his opportunity. Bin’s hand rests on the middle of his back, almost familiar from how often he’s done it by now.

 

“Did you use me to get to Sungyong?” Bin asks. “Was that why you agreed to come with us?”

 

“What if it was?”

 

Bin presses a hand to his chest. “I’d be hurt. I thought you wanted to hang out with me.”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself. Not everybody would stalk you from outside a gym just to get an autograph.”

 

Bin laughs. “Does that mean you don’t want my autograph?”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “Give me a break, Bin. You’re not that impressive.”

 

Bin smirks. “Are you sure? You’ve been blushing since I put my hand on your back. I’d say it’s impressive that I have that effect on you.”

 

Myungjun touches his cheek. “It’s just warm in here.”

 

“I’d better leave, then. Wouldn’t want you to overheat from being so close to me.”

 

Myungjun’s composure breaks, a laugh sneaking out of him. “Yeah, good idea. Get out of here.” He waves his hand, shooing Bin in the direction of the exit.

 

The sun is nearly set when they step outside. Bin lets out a long breath, standing so close to Myungjun that their arms knock together as they walk past the valet to the sidewalk.

 

“How’re you getting home?” Bin asks.

 

Myungjun points to his left. “There’s a bus stop about two blocks that way. Should take me home pretty easy.”

 

“I could call a car for you.”

 

“The bus is fine, really.” Myungjun smiles. “You must not take the bus much.”

 

Bin nods. “I used to take it all the time when I was younger, to class and sometimes to shoots. I haven’t since I got my own team, though, a couple of years ago. Actually, uh.” Bin looks at his shoes. “Would you mind if I rode with you?”

 

Myungjun raises a brow. “You want to ride the bus?”

 

“With you. That’s the important part.”

 

“Why is that the important part?”

 

“Because it wouldn’t be fun otherwise. I actually really hate buses, but I’m not ready to stop talking to you yet.”

 

Myungjun is taken aback by Bin’s sincerity. It wouldn’t be too bad, right? They’re just hanging out casually. He nods. “Sure. Let’s go.”

 

Bin is mostly quiet as they walk. He points out a few things, including a sign in a shop with his face plastered on it. Myungjun watches in amusement as Bin copies the expression and pose in the sign, even holding an invisible cologne bottle for accuracy. Their hands bump as they walk but Myungjun doesn’t mind. He almost grabs Bin’s hand a few times before thinking it would be best if he didn’t.

 

The bus ride is as uneventful as their walk, though they talk more than they had even in the restaurant. Myungjun learns Bin’s parents pushed him towards modeling before he even learned to ride a bike. Over the span of his almost two-decade-long career, he’d done a lot. He'd modeled for kids clothing brands and luxury watches and been in commercials for pizza places. He'd once gathered a group of friends to “model walk” across the stage for a talent show act. Bin tells him about his younger sister currently studying to be a veterinarian, and his parents who had moved to Haeundae (with his help) to enjoy the beaches. They go through two bus changes, leaving the final bus together, standing on the sidewalk as the bus rolls away to its next stop.

 

“Which way to yours?” Bin looks either direction down the street.

 

“I can get home on my own from here,” Myungjun laughs. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

 

“I’m not— I wasn’t trying to do that. I just was hoping to spend a few more minutes with you.”

 

Myungjun chews on his bottom lip. “Why?”

 

Bin blinks. “Why?”

 

“Yeah, why? Why do you want to spend more time with me?”

 

Bin shrugs. “I like you. You’re handsome, too. I like looking at you.”

 

Myungjun sighs in amusement. “You’re the handsome one.”

 

He didn’t mean to say it. The words escaped him, slipping past his  _ no-flirting  _ filter before he could stop them. Bin’s cheeks turn pink. Rather than letting the compliment embarrass him, however, he seems encouraged by it. He stands a little taller, though he doesn’t meet Myungjun’s eyes for a moment.

 

“Go on a date with me,” Bin says.

 

Myungjun nearly agrees. “I can’t. I said it earlier; I don’t mix work and play.”

 

Bin hums. “Technically I work with Miss Kim, not with you.”

 

Myungjun opens his mouth only to close it in defeat. “As true as that may be, I still can’t. I don’t have the time.”

 

Bin looks at his watch. “Quarter ‘til six.”

 

Myungjun chuckles. “You know what I mean. Miss Kim’s winter exhibition is coming up. I need to stay focused on keeping her organized for that.”

 

“What about after that?” Bin looks at him with hope in his eyes. It’s charming. “Will you go on a date with me after then?”

 

He can’t say no. The word is lost to him like the secrets in a book written in an ancient language. “We’ll see.”

 

Bin rocks on his feet. “Can I at least get your phone number?”

 

Myungjun laughs, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You don’t give up, do you?”

 

“Not really, no.” Bin beams, his smile so wide Myungjun sees dimples in his cheeks he hadn’t noticed before.

 

“Fine.” Myungjun relays his phone number to an eager Bin.

 

“You’re sure I can’t walk you home?” Bin asks.

 

“Goodbye, Bin,” Myungjun says as sternly as he can. “Call you a cab or something. Get home safe.”

 

Bin raises his brows at him. “Is that care I detect?”

 

“I’m leaving now.” Myungjun begins to walk backward. “I mean it! Call a limo for all I care.”

 

“Are you sure I can’t walk you to the end of the block?”

 

“Bye!”

 

Myungjun turns on his heel, continuing towards his apartment. A few meters from the bus stop, he glances over his shoulder. Bin is on the phone with someone but raises a hand to wave. Myungjun shakes his head in disbelief, a smile finding its way onto his lips. Every few meters he turns to look at Bin, and Bin waves at him every time.

 

At the corner, before he has to turn, Myungjun looks back at Bin one last time. Bin makes a heart over his head with his arms. Myungjun swears someone would’ve seen him do something so dumb, but he doesn’t care. He waves before stepping out of Bin’s view on the way to his apartment. Despite the chill in the air, his chest is warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, finally! I'm going to do my best to update this fic as regularly as I can, probably every two weeks or so. Thanks for being patient, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter~
> 
> If you want, you can find me [@snibwrites](https://twitter.com/snibwrites) on Twitter! I have a CuriousCat linked in my bio there, too, if you'd like to ask me something


	4. Focus

 

As part of her “New Faces” program, Miss Kim scheduled two unusual shows. The first, a winter exhibition of her fall/winter line to introduce rising models next to a pair of the biggest names. The second, a spring show to showcase designs from rising designers. With only four months between the two, Myungjun has his work cut out for him. Having a clone for those months would make Myungjun’s life easier. He could split his workload in half and have at least one full day a week to himself. Unfortunately, Miss Kim won’t give him a day off if she can avoid it and cloning doesn’t exist yet.

 

Myungjun has been at the venue for the winter exhibition since sunrise. He's setting up seats with the other event workers and placing placards on reserved ones. Lunch is a figment of his imagination. He’s hardly had a chance to sit down since he woke up.

 

“Welcome to Miss Kim’s ‘New Faces’ winter exhibition,” Myungjun greets.

 

The pair is press, so he withholds the pamphlets in favor of pointing them towards the section reserved for them. Press with their photographers, idols with their managers, and designers with their assistants have been flowing into the rented warehouse since the doors opened half an hour ago. With only half an hour until the show stars, Myungjun’s heart won’t slow. He scans the room to find someone to take his place so he can answer Miss Kim’s frantic waving from backstage.

 

“Go.” One of the workers—Seyoung, Myungjun thinks—takes the pamphlets from him. “I can handle greetings.”

 

Relief fills Myungjun. He mutters a quick thank you and skirts around the chairs to disappear behind the curtain that separates the viewing area from backstage.

 

“There you are.” Miss Kim pulls him along by his wrist for several steps. “Have you seen this?”

 

She shoves her phone at him, an article on display.  _ Top Designer Alexandra Kim’s Former Assistant Claims Abuse. _

 

Myungjun furrows his brows. “Is this real?”

 

“It better be or I’m firing the  _ entire  _ PR department. I can’t get a single one of them to return my calls, and security tells me the number of reporters outside is doubling every minute. Handle it.” Miss Kim takes her phone back, spinning and disappearing into the prep area for the models.

 

Myungjun sighs. The rumors had surfaced a week prior but with no statements from Miss Kim’s former assistants. Their luck has just run out.

 

Myungjun’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he pushes through the curtain. He pulls it out, half expecting it to be a request for an interview from some tabloid that managed to find his number, but it isn’t. It’s a text from Bin. Myungjun can’t hide his smile as he opens the notification.

 

In the three weeks since his run-in with Bin and Sungyong at the gym, Bin has hardly stopped texting him. Random messages light up his screen at least once every couple of hours. From overexposed close-up photos of the grass to snapshots of expensive watches, Bin’s messages never fail to bring joy to Myungjun, even if only for a second. This message is no different. The photo of Bin’s hand adorned with several rings and nails painted a vibrant shade of red pulls a bubbling giggle from Myungjun. He sends back a trio of fire emojis before tucking his phone into his pocket and bracing himself for the media storm outside the venue.

 

The volume of their questions increases the longer Myungjun is in their view. They know who he is; it shouldn’t be a surprise that they would try to ask him questions given his position as Miss Kim’s assistant. Clenching his jaw, Myungjun makes his way to the front of their barrier, the security keeping an eye on him.

 

As he stands in silence, their questions stop. Every camera is angled at him, every recorder thrust in his direction, and every pair of ears straining to hear what he has to say. During his time at the magazine, he’d never been part of the traveling press team. Even so, he understands their desire for answers.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” Myungjun starts. “My name is Kim Myungjun. I’m Alexandra Kim’s personal assistant.”

 

Their noise drives up in volume again, quieting when he says nothing further.

 

“We are aware of the rumors and articles published by the media, but today isn’t for that. Today is the winter exhibition portion of Miss Kim’s ‘New Faces’ program. There are twenty young men and women inside that venue waiting to greet the world for the first time, and our attention should be on them and their futures.”

 

“Will you give a statement on the accusations?” a reporter closer to the front says, echoed by several others.

 

“At a later date, yes. Until then, if you are not here to cover today’s exhibition, I’ll ask that you leave as we will not be commenting on anything else. Thank you.”

 

Myungjun turns, rushing back to the safety inside the venue as their questions chase him. He squeezes past a familiar model and her manager, bowing before continuing beyond the curtain in search of some form of quiet.

 

His wish for quiet is only a wish. He’s behind the curtain for only a few seconds before a stylist grabs him, pulling him towards the prep area. Myungjun avoids looking at a half-naked model as the stylist faces him towards an empty seat.

 

“Do you see this?” The stylist holds up a can of hairspray. “ _ Vital _ . And I’m out. We’re all running out.”

 

“What do you need me to do?”

 

The stylist sighs, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I need you to fetch the spray from the trunk of my car. I’m parked beside Miss Kim’s. Bright blue, can’t miss it.” He tosses Myungjun his keys. “Hurry!”

 

Myungjun jumps into gear. The back lot, reserved for the models and their teams, is private space. Cones block off the single entrance and a guard from the security team stands watch. Tucked behind the warehouse and off the street, the lot is almost quiet. The sounds of the city are far away and the commotion of the press staging area in the front is minor.

 

“Hey! Aren’t you Alex Kim’s assistant?”

 

Myungjun turns toward the voice, an older man with a camera hanging around his neck. Myungjun can’t see a press pass but he doesn’t need a degree to make the connection.

 

“You aren’t allowed back here,” Myungjun says. “The press enter through the front.”

 

“I must’ve got turned around. My mistake.” He smiles, his eyes void of any of the associated feeling.

 

Wariness sinks into Myungjun’s bones. He opens the stylist’s trunk and grabs the bag of cans, retreating inside as the man slinks towards the exit. Myungjun will have to tell Miss Kim that security isn’t doing their job.

 

There’s a tall body blocking the door when Myungjun opens it. He takes a step back, gaze tracing up a broad back to strong shoulders. The model turns, smiling down at him with cat eyes lined with black and glitter.

 

“I was hoping I’d see you,” Bin says.

 

Myungjun blinks, chuckling. “I almost didn’t recognize you under all that makeup.”

 

Bin sighs. “Miss Kim’s suggestion. I’m here as a senior to everybody else, so she wanted me to stand out. Seungkwan says it hides my face.”

 

“Seungkwan would be right.” Myungjun shuffles in beside Bin, shutting the door behind himself. “Are you ready?”

 

“I am. Are you okay?”

 

Myungjun swallows, nodding once. “Never better.”

 

Bin raises a brow.

 

“Okay, I  _ have  _ been better, but that’s how things go.” Myungjun pats the bag. “I have to get this to the stylist before he bites my head off.”

 

Bin laughs. “Don’t let him intimidate you!” he calls after Myungjun as he walks away.

 

Myungjun hardly has a chance to make sure his head is on straight when Miss Kim finds him. “With me,” she mutters, tugging him away from the prep area.

 

“I have to get—”

 

Miss Kim grabs one of the event workers by the arm, taking the bag from Myungjun and pushing it into the worker’s chest. “Get that to Jungho.  _ Now. _ Myungjun, please, with me.”

 

Myungjun follows Miss Kim to a storage room, holding his breath as she closes the door behind them. The panic in her eyes is barely veiled. Myungjun thought the rumors were taking a toll on him, but he hadn’t stopped to think what may be going through Miss Kim’s mind.

 

“How’s the press situation?”

 

“I calmed them down enough. I said we would release a statement in the future, but today is to focus on the models here as part of your program.”

 

Miss Kim nods. “Good, that’s good.”

 

“I do think we have an issue with our security, though.”

 

Miss Kim pinches the bridge of her nose. “Of course we do. What’s gone wrong this time?”

 

“It wasn’t bad. I went to get the hairspray for that stylist and someone from the press had made it into the back parking lot. He was just standing there and said he got turned around, but he got passed the guy we had posted near the cones.”

 

Miss Kim shakes her head. “That was my fault. I moved him. Find someone to put back there and then take your seat out front. We’ll be starting shortly.”

 

“I’m on it.”

 

Finding a spare security guard is harder than Myungjun thought it would be. They blend into the crowd in their black uniforms, only a small name tag identifying them. Myungjun sends one at random to block the way into the back parking lot before taking his seat as the lights dim.

 

The show kicks off with a round of music accompanied by a light show. Though flashier than it used to be, the show reminds Myungjun of those he attended at his mother’s side. Applause flourishes as lasers spell out  _ New Faces  _ across the back curtain. The lights and music cut out for a moment. As the first whispers in the crowd begin, a spotlight illuminates Bin in a large fur coat and high-heeled boots. The music returns as Bin strides down the catwalk and Miss Kim finds her seat next to Myungjun.

 

“Surprised?” she asks, leaning towards him. “It was Doyun’s idea.” She gestures at the man controlling the lights and music from a laptop. “I’ll have to hire him again if the rest of this show goes off well.”

 

Myungjun watches Bin pose at the end of the runway, his eyes surveying the crowd before he turns and walks back. Model after model continues to walk. Myungjun knows there’s only twenty, excluding Bin, but there seem to be more. He never got the chance to meet any of the other models. It was the previous assistant that chose who would walk for the exhibition.

 

At what must be the halfway point, Miss Kim leans towards Myungjun again. “I left my phone backstage, Myungjun,” she mutters. “I can’t remember where. Can you find it for me?”

 

Myungjun crouches as he walks to stay out of the way of the viewers and out of the shots the press take. It’s a shame he won’t get to see the rest of the show, but he isn’t here as a guest. He has a job to do at all times. The models who walked first are back in their chairs, and Myungjun asks each of them if they’ve seen a phone without its owner. He makes his way to the room where he spoke with Miss Kim, not finding it there either. As he opens the door, he stops, a large body blocking his passage for a second time.

 

He isn’t greeted by Bin’s smiling face this time. The reporter from the back parking lot has somehow made his way into the building.

 

“You aren’t allowed back here,” Myungjun states, holding his voice as firm as possible.

 

“I only want a few quick questions.” The reporter steps into the room, forcing Myungjun further inside. “You’re aware of the accusations against your boss, aren’t you?”

 

“We’ll release a statement at a later date.” Myungjun takes several steps back, putting distance between himself and the man.

 

“Just a few minutes, really.” The reporter pulls a pen out of his pocket. “I’ll be quick.”

 

“Security!” Myungjun yells. He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, but there’s a bad feeling in his gut.

 

Security doesn’t come, but Bin does. He slips around the man, putting himself between the reporter and Myungjun.

 

“How did you even manage to get in here?” Bin asks. He reaches behind himself, finding Myungjun’s arm and holding it. The casual touch makes Myungjun’s heart race for a new reason.

 

“Move it,” the reporter demands. “I want to ask Myungjun a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”

 

“He said no. Back out of the room.”

 

“You—”

 

A security guard grabs the reporter from behind, hauling him out of the room. Myungjun assumes the reporter fights back from the sound of several punches, but he can’t see due to Bin’s body blocking his view. The music outside the room skips before stopping.

 

“I deserve to be here!” the reporter screams. Myungjun peeks around Bin, watching the security wrestle him to the floor. “We deserve answers! Miss Kim abused her assistants in the past! I’m trying to  _ help!” _

 

Myungjun grabs Bin’s arm without thinking, clinging to him. Bin faces him, blocking the chaos outside of the room with his body.

 

“Are you okay?” Bin asks. “He didn’t hurt you, right?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, still holding Bin’s arm. “No, he wanted to ask questions, but he cornered me. I panicked. Miss Kim is going to be pissed—”

 

“Shh.” Bin smooths Myungjun’s hair. “What matters is that you’re safe.”

 

Myungjun nods. “I’m fine.”

 

A microphone screeches with feedback before Miss Kim’s voice fills the area. “Please, everybody, return to your seats. We’ve had a minor security issue, but it has been dealt with. Please, please, take your seats and let’s return our attention to the runway. These models are doing fabulous, aren’t they? Aren’t they?”

 

There’s a round of applause before the music kicks back up. Myungjun assumes the show has started again as one of the workers guides a model up the backstage stairs and onto the stage.

 

“Come sit down.” Bin’s fingers cradle his own. “Let’s get you some water or—”

 

“Myungjun.”

 

Myungjun rips his hand from Bin’s, bowing his head as Miss Kim enters the storage room. Bin, thankfully, is able to read a room and keeps his distance.

 

“Did you let him back here?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “No, Miss Kim. I would never do that.”

 

“Why did you get security involved? You should’ve handled it. You stopped the show, and now I’ll have to dodge questions about what happened during the after-party. Do you have any idea—”

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Kim. It won’t happen again.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t see her hand coming. It stings, the sound of the smack echoing in his head. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

 

“You wait until I’m finished talking.” Miss Kim’s words are swords, each one driving through Myungjun’s chest. “You handle things on your own. You only speak when spoken to. You make yourself the least interesting person in the room, and when someone asks you to do something, you  _ do it. _ Do I make myself clear?”

 

Myungjun doesn’t raise his head. “Yes, Miss Kim.”

 

As she leaves, Bin moves to follow her. Myungjun grabs him by the jacket, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he whispers.

 

“But—”

 

“Bin, please.”

 

Bin shuts the door, and Myungjun lets out a shaky breath.

 

“Has she ever done that before?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Never. I can’t blame her, though. I spoke when I wasn’t supposed to.”

 

“You’re joking, right?”

 

Myungjun looks up at Bin. His eyeliner has smudged a little, and he's flushed.

 

“That wasn’t right. It doesn’t matter what you did. Jun, I’m serious, has she ever—”

 

“ _ No." _ Myungjun pushes his hair off his forehead. “She’s never done anything like that before. She yells at me sometimes when I mess up, but she’s my boss, so she can do that.”

 

“But she shouldn’t slap you! I’m going to give her a piece of my mind—”

 

Myungjun rushes to block the door, pressing his back against it. “You can’t. I mean it. She can’t do anything to you because you’re a model and you’re untouchable when it comes to the media but she can do whatever she wants to me. She could fire me and I  _ need  _ this job, Bin. I’ve wanted to be part of this industry since I was a kid, and Miss Kim is my way to get my foot through the gate. I have to keep this job.”

 

Bin stares at him, thoughts spinning in his head. He nods and says nothing further on the subject. “Are you okay?”

 

“I—” Myungjun should’ve expected the question, but it blinds him. “Maybe? I, uh—” Myungjun swallows hard as he does his best to ignore the stinging of his cheek. “I don’t know.”

 

Bin closes the distance between them at a snail’s pace and is even slower as he wraps Myungjun in a hug. Myungjun gives in, pressing his face into Bin’s chest. He pulls away first, glancing down at Bin’s boots.

 

“You’re taller,” Myungjun mumbles, twisting to gauge the height of Bin’s boots.

 

“Or you’re shorter,” Bin teases.

 

Myungjun scoffs, slapping Bin’s chest. “You’re just a monster. Too tall.” He shuffles closer, his feet between Bin’s as he hugs him. “And warm.”

 

Bin rubs his back and some of the tension seeps out of Myungjun. “And you’re going to be okay. Right?”

 

Myungjun nods. “I’ll be okay.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear. We shouldn’t stay here, though. People might talk.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “Since when have you cared about what people say?”

 

“Since when haven’t you? Come on.”

 

Myungjun lets Bin open the door and follows him to the prep area. He keeps his gaze low, avoiding the models waiting for their time to walk and those lingering for the final walk. Bin’s prep seat is halfway from the stage to the back of the room.

 

“Sit.” Bin gestures at the chair. “You should let me paint your nails.”

 

Myungjun stares. “What?”

 

Bin grins. “Let me paint your nails. I’m good at it. My little sister used to make me paint hers all the time.”

 

Myungjun watches Bin roll the nail polish between his palms as he picks himself up to sit in the seat. “Sua, right?”

 

“You remembered.” Bin drags the folding chair closer to Myungjun before sitting. He unscrews the polish and wipes the excess off the brush before holding his hand out, palm up.

 

Myungjun places his hand in Bin’s, fixated on the bright red color as Bin paints it on in silence. The bass of the music pounds in Myungjun’s chest as he tries to focus on Bin alone. The models had all seen the exchange between him and Miss Kim, hadn’t they? If even only a few of them had, they’ll all know by the end of the show. They’ll be at the after-party, too, and Myungjun is sure the guests will ask questions. How many more calls from reporters will he have to ignore? Will he have to change his phone number?

 

“Bin, final walk in— Oh.” The worker stares at them in shock, and Myungjun tugs his hand out of Bin’s. “Final walk in three.” She steps away as fast as she had come.

 

Bin closes the nail polish, frowning at Myungjun’s hand. “I only got four nails done.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “It’s fine. Go do what you need to.”

 

Despite the encouragement, Bin doesn’t move. He looks up at Myungjun. “How did you get here?”

 

“The venue? I took the bus and walked a few blocks.”

 

“Wait for me in the parking lot when it’s done, and I’ll take you home.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I know. I want to.” Bin stands. “Seriously. Let me give you a ride.”

 

People will see them. Models and their managers and guests, maybe even Miss Kim would see them leaving together. Bin’s eyes beg for a yes.

 

“Okay.”

 

Bin smiles. “Really?”

 

Myungjun mirrors his expression. “Yes, really. Now go before they send someone to get you again.”

 

Bin points at him. “Don’t skip out on me.”

 

Myungjun stays in Bin’s prep area until the models take to the stage for the final walk. He takes his belongings from the pile where the workers dropped their things, slipping on his jacket before facing the early winter evening.

 

Managers lead their models out of the venue one by one. Myungjun tries to make himself invisible by pressing himself against the brick wall. Every model glances at him without fail. Those that exit in pairs or trios whisper among themselves, glancing at him as they walk to their cars. He should leave. He'll hurt Bin, but Myungjun can see himself home. He messed up once already today and got the brunt of Miss Kim’s wrath. Can he really afford to get caught leaving with Bin? Being caught with Bin will definitely cost him his job if Miss Kim isn't already planning to fire him first thing on Monday.

 

Bin appears before Myungjun can make up his mind to bolt. He’s changed into a pair of jeans, a thick coat slipped on over a simple black hoodie. The glitter and eyeliner are still on him, if not a bit smudged. Myungjun takes the quick moment of silence between them to appreciate the fact that Bin, thus far, looks good in whatever he wears.

 

“Ready to go?” He extends his hand to Myungjun.

 

Myungjun hesitates, but Bin waits for him to take his hand. Bin’s hand is warm, too, a welcome difference to the cold outside. He swings their hands as they walk.

 

“What about Seunghwan?” Myungjun asks as they near Bin’s car.

 

“He doesn’t live with me, so he’s calling for a car to get home. You worry about everything, don’t you?”

 

“I don’t worry! If you were going to give him a ride home, now you can't because you're—" Myungjun ducks his head. "You're taking me home."

 

Bin laughs. “He doesn’t care, honestly.” Bin unlocks the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “After you.”

 

Myungjun climbs into the car without further protest. He watches Bin race to the back of the car through the side mirror, wiping off his dumb smile when he catches himself. He doesn’t smile that way all the time, does he? He can’t say for certain.

 

Bin swears as he turns on the car and cranks up the heater. “Are you cold?” He grabs Myungjun’s hand between both of his, blowing on it. “Better?”

 

Myungjun bites back a laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“But I want to.”

 

Myungjun thinks Bin is going to say something else, but he releases his hand and pulls on his seat belt. Myungjun does the same, inspecting the windows as Bin backs up the car.

 

“Are your windows tinted?” Myungjun asks, leaning closer to the center of the car in hopes of hiding more.

 

“Nobody can see you.” Bin glances at him. “I wouldn’t have asked you to let me drive you if it was going to get you in trouble.”

 

Myungjun leans back into the plush seat. Bin had thought everything through already, it seems. Myungjun still stays as far from the window as he can in case press manage to catch him in a photo in Bin’s car. Even as the building passes out of view, nerves continue to sing under his skin.

 

Aside from the gentle music playing from the radio and Myungjun muttering directions, their drive is quiet. At a particularly long red light, Bin glances at Myungjun.

 

“You  _ really _ want to be a designer, don’t you?”

 

Myungjun stares at his knees. “It’s all I’ve wanted since I was a kid.”

 

Bin’s fingers drum on the gear shift. “What if I could get you a job with a different designer?”

 

Myungjun huffs. “You worry too much. I’m sure— I think it’ll be fine. Miss Kim is just stressed because of the event and the press.” He digs his nails into his palm.

 

“Will you promise me something?”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin. His stare is serious despite the glitter on his lids.

 

“What is it?”

 

“If she does that again— If she does anything like that again, quit your job.”

 

Myungjun scoffs. “You aren’t serious.” Bin’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You  _ are  _ serious. Bin, I can’t quit. This job could be it for me. It could get my name out there.”

 

“I could get your name out there.” The light changes and Bin doesn’t move until the car behind them honks.

 

“I appreciate the thought, but using you for that…” Myungjun sighs. “I need to do it on my own.”

 

“But I could help.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I’m going to stick with Miss Kim and get my name out there on my own. She has a show coming up in the spring as the second leg of her ‘New Faces’ program and she wants me to make a design for it. It’ll be the start of my career.”

 

Bin is quiet for a moment. “Do you know who’s going to be wearing what you design?”

 

“Not yet. Miss Kim hasn’t assigned anybody. That’s a job for Monday.”

 

Bin’s thumb taps on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to quit?”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Focus on the road. I want to get home in one piece.”

 

Bin smirks. “Fine, then.”

 

The car speeds forward and Myungjun yelps, grabbing the door. “W-wait! Not so fast!”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Bin is pulling on a hat and mask as he slips out of his car. Cars line the streets at this late an hour. It took them three turns around the block to find this spot a couple blocks from Myungjun's building. Myungjun waits for Bin as he pulls his hood over his head.

 

Bin, the lower half of his face covered, smiles with his eyes. “You’re cute,” he says, words muffled by the mask.

 

Myungjun scoffs. “What?”

 

“You’re cute,” Bin repeats. “Your nose is all red and we haven’t even been standing outside for a minute yet.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “It’s cold.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Just go home if you’re going to tease me.”

 

Bin laughs, following Myungjun as he begins to walk. “I won’t do it anymore.” He pauses. “Tonight.”

 

“I suppose I can live with that.”

 

Bin locks their fingers together before hiding their hands in his jacket pocket. Heat rushes into Myungjun’s face like a blast of hot air from a heater. It's late. Nobody is on the streets except for them.  Myungjun doesn’t pull away, running his thumb over Bin’s finger as his stomach spins. 

 

The embarrassment of holding hands in public has subsided by the time they reach Myungjun’s building. He enters the code for the door and pulls Bin in after him. In contrast to the outside, the lobby is hot. They take a moment to remove their heavy coats before taking the elevator up.

 

“What about your roommate?” Bin says. “Won’t he be here?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “It’s okay. He always hangs out with friends on Friday evenings. He shouldn’t be back for another few hours.” He smiles. “You sounded worried.”

 

Bin clears his throat. “For you. I know you don’t want everybody to know you’re hanging out with me. Though I can’t say I understand why. I mean, look at me.”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Of course. You’re a perfect specimen of attractiveness.”

 

He can’t see Bin’s lips, but he knows he’s smirking.

 

The apartment is empty as Myungjun expected. He flips on the lights and drapes his coat on the rack by the door as he exchanges his loafers for slippers. Bin takes the initiative to add his coat to the rack, as well as taking off his hoodie. If he notices Myungjun watching as his shirt rides up, he says nothing.

 

“Well, uh.” Myungjun gestures to the area. “Welcome to Chateau Yoon and Kim.”

 

“Yoon and Kim.” Bin hangs his hat and mask on the rack. “Yoon would be your roommate, right? Sanha?”

 

Myungjun nods. “That’s him.”

 

As they settle into the couch and Myungjun turns on the TV, nerves begin to worm through his veins again. What was he thinking? Why had he yelled for help at the show? He could’ve handled it himself. The man hadn’t been threatening him. He should’ve just answered a question or two and demanded the man leave with the promise of an interview. That always worked before.

 

Myungjun tightens his grip on the remote. If Miss Kim fires him, all his plans will be ruined. He might be able to work his way into a position of favor with someone else, but it’ll be hard if he’s fired. Maybe Bin was right. He should quit while he’s ahead. He can get his job back at the magazine until he can find another designer to work for. Would his mom be able to set him up with someone? It’s been close to ten years since she changed jobs, but she could still call someone for a favor, couldn't she?

 

If he quits, won’t it look bad? If he quits in Miss Kim’s busiest season, won’t his future employers see it as a sign of his inability to handle a fast-paced job? He can’t exactly join the band of her former assistants that claimed abuse. She only slapped him once.

 

“Should I order some food?” Bin asks, breaking the silence and shattering what’s left of Myungjun’s stability.

 

Myungjun shoots up from the couch. “I have to—”. He flounders for a way out. He drops the remote on the couch and heads to the kitchen, taking refuge behind the wall.

 

“Jun?” Bin shifts, the noise louder than the TV. “Is everything okay?”

 

Myungjun swallows. “Y—  _ No.  _ Everything is  _ not  _ okay. I’m— We—”

 

The TV stops. Bin’s socked feet make a louder impact on the floor than Myungjun has ever heard feet make before.

 

“W-wait!” Myungjun clenches and unclenches his clammy hands. “Just stay there.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Myungjun swallows. “Well, clearly I don’t know how to handle myself in a situation like this.”

 

“What do you mean? Talk to me, Myungjun.”

 

“Today, at the show. I panicked. Miss Kim is going to  _ fire  _ me, Bin." Myungjun holds his head. "I’m going to lose my job because I couldn’t handle it myself.

 

“Myungjun—”

 

“You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get on Miss Kim’s good side, and now it’s all going to shit. I upset her when you came for the fitting. I upset her at the show. How am I supposed to show up to work like everything is fine when everything is  _ not  _ fine?”

 

Bin says nothing, so Myungjun holds his breath. Slow and quiet, Bin’s footsteps come closer until he rounds the corner, his arms winding around Myungjun.

 

“You’re okay,” Bin whispers. “Take a deep breath.”

 

Myungjun digs his fingers into the front of Bin’s shirt, grabbing handfuls of it as he squeezes his eyes shut against hot tears. “I can’t— Bin, this job—”

 

“Don’t think about that right now. Listen to my voice, okay? We’re going to take a big breath on the count of three. Okay? Is that okay?”

 

Myungjun nods, pressing his forehead into Bin’s collar.

 

Bin counts to three, and Myungjun sucks in a deep breath, feeling Bin’s chest move under his hands as he does the same. Bin holds it, so Myungjun does, too. When Bin exhales slowly, Myungjun follows his lead. Myungjun doesn’t bother counting. He focuses on his breath and lets Bin figure out how long he should be holding it for. They repeat the pattern—in, hold, out—for several minutes. Myungjun releases his grip on Bin’s shirt, flattening his hands against his chest as he opens his eyes.

 

Small spots of pink and darker red are woven into the cloth of Bin's red shirt. Myungjun flattens the fabric, frowning at the wrinkles.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed.”

 

“That’s nothing to apologize for.” Bin tugs him closer, hugging him around the waist.

 

Myungjun fits himself into Bin’s chest with arms around his shoulders. He smells of heavy makeup and hairspray. Beneath that, Myungjun smells faded cologne and fresh deodorant. Even fainter, he smells floral detergent. Myungjun smiles. How can such an odd assortment of smells be comforting?

 

“Do you have tea or something?” Bin asks. “We could make tea.”

 

Myungjun nods, peeking over Bin’s shoulder at the cabinets. “Green tea, to the left of the sink.”

 

Bin pulls away, his hands lingering for as long as they can. Myungjun stays leaning against the wall as Bin makes two cups of tea with the individual bags. He digs into cabinets to find cups and hisses at the heat of the water. With the tea finished, he leads Myungjun back to the couch, making him sit before handing over the cup. Bin’s knee presses into his thigh as he sits facing him.

 

“Ya know,” Bin says, “when you first jumped up, I thought you just hated the idea of me ordering food.”

 

Myungjun coughs, the sound turning into a laugh once he’s cleared his throat. “That actually sounds nice. I just— Miss Kim—” He pulls his brows together.

 

“Hey, hey.” Bin scoots closer, and his hand cups Myungjun’s jaw, thumb rubbing his cheek softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s hard. I understand.”

 

Bin’s fingers are warm against his skin. Myungjun nods. “Thanks.”

 

Bin flashes a smile. “So, what do you want to eat?”

 

As they wait for the food, Bin goes to his coat, revealing that he took the nail polish from the show. Thirty minutes pass as Bin paints his nails and comments about the bad horror movie they found on TV. Twenty minutes after their food arrives, they’ve eaten it all. Myungjun’s shoulder presses into Bin’s, a blanket tossed over them as the climax of the movie grows closer.

 

“You know she’s going to—”

 

“Hush,” Myungjun hisses, holding the blanket up to his chest. It might be a bad movie, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t invested.

 

Bin is distracting, though. His eyes seem stuck to Myungjun as he drinks the last of his soda, slurping through his straw. Myungjun frowns, glaring at Bin, who smiles back. Bin smiles so easily. As he stares at Myungjun, his lips pulled wide to show off his bright teeth, Myungjun resigns himself to missing the height of the movie.

 

“Why do you keep watching me? The TV is over there.” Myungjun gestures toward it.

 

“You’re more interesting.”

 

Myungjun holds the blanket closer to his chest. “I get that it’s a bad movie, but how can watching me be more interesting than watching the movie?”

 

Bin shakes his head. “Not watching you, necessarily; just you in general. You’re not the usual person I hang out with.”

 

Myungjun’s chest twists. “Thanks for the reminder.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Bin scrambles for the remote, pausing the movie. He sets his empty cup down with the remote on the coffee table. “I meant that most of the people that I haven’t known for a long time are fake. They pretend to like me to get fame or recognition or another notch on their belt.” He frowns. “Or they pretend to be my friend long enough to get information out of me. They turn on me and sell what they know to people that write articles that paint me as an asshole.”

 

“Bin,” Myungjun sighs, mirroring the other’s frown. “That’s awful.”

 

Bin shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s refreshing to be around someone like you. Someone who’s a friend. Someone that I can trust. Like Sungyong.”

 

Myungjun can’t help his smile. “I’m on the same level as Sungyong? You met me for the first time only two months ago.”

 

Bin avoids his gaze as he scratches the side of his neck. “I know, but there’s something about you that I like. It’s hard to explain, and I’ll find the words eventually, hopefully, but it’s…” His voice trails off as he gets lost in thought. “It’s like you’re seeing  _ me _ , if that makes any sense at all. This type of work, I’m always putting on a face, but you see right through that.”

 

Myungjun’s smile curls further. “You mean I see through your bullshit?”

 

Bin laughs, finally meeting Myungjun’s eyes. “Yeah, you could put it that way.” He pauses, his smile turning into something softer.

 

“Is there any other way to put it?”

 

Bin inspects him, pulling away some to see him better. Myungjun waits as he watches thoughts spring to life behind Bin’s eyes.

 

“I like you.” Bin smiles so widely that Myungjun can see his dimples again. “I mean I  _ really  _ like you, Myungjun. Isn’t that great?”

 

Myungjun laughs, Bin’s happiness seeping into him. “Yeah, it is great.”

 

Bin’s smile sobers some, one corner of his lips staying higher than the other. “You feel the same way, right? I mean, this would be embarrassing if you don’t.”

 

Myungjun hums, tapping his fingers against his chin. “Well, I mean.”

 

Bin whines as his smile turns into a pout. “Come on! You can’t just let me bare my heart to you and then not say something back.”

 

Laughter builds in Myungjun’s chest until it escapes in a sound much louder than he anticipated. He covers his mouth as giggles continue to leave him.

 

“Yes, Bin,” Myungjun giggles. “I like you, too.”

 

Bin’s smile returns. “Does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

 

“Bin—”

 

“Last time I asked you, you said you couldn’t because of the winter show. The winter show is over.” Bin stares at the blanket. “If you don’t want to, say no, but say it outright. No excuses.”

 

Myungjun’s heart swells to three times its size as Bin avoids his gaze. The smile is gone, replaced with tight lips. Where he’d been filled with bravado before, there’s now only the careful expression of a man worried with getting a possible bad outcome.

 

“Okay,” Myungjun says. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

 

Bin looks up at him right away, color turning his cheeks pink. “Really?”

 

Myungjun grins, nodding once. “Really. I’ll go on a date with you.”

 

Bin’s eyes widen as he bites his bottom lip. “Okay. Uh, good. Now I have to come up with a date idea.” He laughs, ducking his head. “Is tomorrow okay? I know it’s soon, but I figure you’ll get busy again with work soon and I don’t want to get in the way of that since I know it’s so important to you.”

 

“Tomorrow would be great.”

 

As Myungjun watches Bin’s expression and the pink in his cheeks deepen, he also sees his eyes dart towards his lips. Bin leans closer as his hand cups the back of Myungjun’s neck. Myungjun’s heart bangs against his ribs like sticks on a drum, echoing in his ears. The beating is broken by the sound of a key in getting stuck in the apartment’s front door followed by a swear from outside.

 

Bin doesn’t pick up on it. He continues to close the distance until Myungjun pulls away, throwing the blanket off himself and standing. Pain flashes in Bin’s eyes.

 

“Sanha,” Myungjun hisses.

 

The pain is gone as soon as it had come. Bin's eyes dart around the room, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Neither of them is fast enough. The door squeaks open then closes. Myungjun holds his breath until Sanha comes out of the small entryway. His eyes find Myungjun first then widen as they land on Bin before shifting back to Myungjun.

 

“Hyung, what’s— why’s he—” Sanha blinks and looks at Bin. “Are you Moon Bin?”

 

Bin gives a small wave. “How ya doin’?”

 

“How am I— You’re  _ Moon Bin.”  _ Sanha looks at Myungjun again. “Hyung, you brought him  _ home?  _ I thought you said you were just friends!”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Myungjun chides, shoulders rising up around his neck. “You’re gonna let the whole street know.”

 

“How could I not? He’s freaking—” Sanha looks at Bin again, taking in a deep breath. “Hi.”

 

Myungjun glances at Bin, who smiles kindly. “Nice to finally meet you. You’re not as skinny as Jun made it sound.”

 

_ Jun. _

 

“He—” Sanha sighs. “Of course he did. I’m gonna go that way.” He points down the hall, hesitates, then rushes out of sight and into his bedroom. His door shuts behind him with a soft click.

 

“That went better than I expected,” Bin says.

 

Myungjun sighs, laughter creeping out of him. “At least he didn’t scream.”

 

“You were right, though; he  _ is  _ loud.”

 

Myungjun smiles, sitting on the couch again. Bin’s arm extends over the back before slipping onto his shoulders. Drained from the stress of the show, his worries, and the brief encounter with Sanha, Myungjun leans his head on Bin’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

 

Sanha's door bangs open. Myungjun immediately rights himself, Bin’s arm slipping off his shoulders.

 

Sanha stops at the end of the couch. “I said I thought you two were just friends and you didn’t correct me. Hyung, are you  _ dating?” _

 

Bin curses under his breath and Myungjun pushes his hair off his forehead. “I mean—”

 

“It’s either a yes or a no, hyung. You can’t be both. It’s either friends or you’re dating.”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin with a question on his face. Bin considers him for a moment before shrugging.  _ Your call. _

 

Myungjun swallows, looking back at Sanha. “Yes. Bin and— Yeah.”

 

Sanha stares at him with raised brows. “Holy  _ shit,  _ hyung! You’re dating  _ Moon  _ freaking—”

 

Myungjun launches forward, pressing a hand over Sanha’s mouth before he can get Bin’s name out completely. “Shut  _ up _ , would you? It happened five minutes ago.”

 

Sanha raises a brow. Myungjun's hand muffles his words, but he says, “Five minutes?”

 

“Yes, five minutes. We haven’t gone on any dates yet because we both have work to worry about. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to have a normal relationship when one of you is in the spotlight a lot.”

 

Sanha pulls Myungjun’s hand away from his mouth and leans around him, staring down Bin. “You better treat him well or I’m going to—”

 

“You’re not going to do anything. Go play your game and give us some time, okay?”

 

Sanha scowls. “Fine. But I’m coming back out again in fifteen minutes because I’m hungry.” He notices the empty food containers on the coffee table. “You couldn’t even wait for me to have dinner.”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes, pushing Sanha in the direction of his room. “Go on. He’ll be gone before you come out again.”

 

Sanha returns to his room, closing the door behind himself. Myungjun leans his weight on the armrest, hanging his head as he sighs.

 

“So much for secret,” he mutters.

 

Bin shuffles and his hand slides onto Myungjun’s lower back. “It’s one person. I think we can trust him to keep it secret as long as you tell him why.” Bin lowers his voice. “Why, exactly, does it need to be a secret?”

 

“Because once it’s out it can’t be taken back.” Myungjun looks at Bin. “Because I want to know what it’s like to date you without any of the tabloids or paparazzi. I want to know what it’s like for it to be only us.” Myungjun averts his eyes. “Maybe that’s stupid.”

 

“No,  _ no.”  _ Bin cups his face with both hands. “That’s not stupid. That’s actually cute.”

 

Myungjun flushes. “Shut up.”

 

Bin laughs. “I mean it! That’s a really cute reason, and I agree completely. We should go somewhere where it can be just us. A movie or—”

 

“A museum?” Myungjun suggests.

 

Bin’s eyes brighten. “First date at a museum sounds perfect. We can go in the morning and avoid a lot of the midday and afternoon buzz.” His hands fall away from Myungjun’s face. “You have such great ideas.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “Will you pick me up?”

 

“Well, sometimes I get followed from my house.” Bin frowns. “It’s rare, but I don’t want there to be a risk of people seeing you if you’re serious about keeping this secret. They wouldn’t follow me into the museum, but I doubt they’d be better than snapping photos of you getting into the car.”

 

Myungjun nods. “I’ll meet you there, then. Pick a museum for us tonight and text it to me later.”

 

Bin calls for a car to pick him up, the driver giving him a twenty minute estimate until he shows up. When Sanha emerges from his room, Myungjun guides Bin into the hall and to the lobby. Bin has his hat and mask on again, plus his hoodie and heavy coat, but that doesn’t seem like a deterrent. If anything, Myungjun thinks it makes Bin bolder. He wraps his jacket around Myungjun’s smaller form, holding him tight against his chest and swaying to nonexistent music.

 

When the car pulls up outside, Myungjun frowns. He wraps his arms tighter around Bin’s waist, reluctant to let go and give up the warmth.

 

Bin chuckles. “Jun, I gotta—” He sighs, rubbing Myungjun’s back. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”

 

“You’re warm,” Myungjun mutters. “Don’t go. Keep me warm.”

 

Bin presses his head to the side of Myungjun’s. “I’ll keep you warm tomorrow, I promise.”

 

Myungjun nods, pulling his arms away from Bin and wrapping them around himself. Bin stares at him.

 

“What?”

 

Bin smiles with his eyes. He tugs the mask down to his chin and presses a kiss to Myungjun’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulls the mask back up. “Sleep well.”

 

Myungjun can feel the blush from his brows to his collar. “Y-yeah. Good night.”

 

Myungjun waits for the car to drive out of view before he slumps against the wall, letting out a deep breath. With a smile forcing the corners of his lips upward, he touches his forehead. He moves on autopilot, taking the elevator back to the fourth floor apartment where he finds Sanha perched on the couch eating a bowl of cereal.

 

“So,” Sanha says, “Moon Bin.”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “Don’t start.”

 

“I  _ told  _ you not to fall for him!” Sanha whines. “He’s…  _ Sticky _ . All the articles about him are bad. They say he flirts with everybody. What if he doesn’t even really like you? I told you not to get attached because he’s just going to hurt you. Seriously, hyung, what are you—”

 

“He said it first.” Myungjun crosses his arms. “I didn’t say anything. In fact, I was trying to avoid him until three weeks ago. But he’s nice and he’s never said anything weird or tried to push me and— He’s  _ amazing _ , Sanha.”

 

Sanha’s expression is unreadable. He slurps the milk from his bowl. “If you say so. But if he hurts you, hyung, I’m going to find out where he lives in kick his ass.”

 

Myungjun grins. Sanha is protective of him as if he’s an older sibling. It’s endearing. “I appreciate the thought, Sanha, but his biceps are bigger than your head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than expected, but here it finally is! A lot of words of myungbin that you hopefully enjoyed. If you did enjoy (or even if you didn't), leave me a comment and let me know!
> 
> If you want to hit me up, I'm always lurking on Twitter [@snibwrites](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)!


	5. Keep It Private

Myungjun plays with the end of his scarf, worrying the fabric between his index and thumb as he waits for the crosswalk sign to change. The museum is already in sight across the street. Its white, blocky exterior rises up as an imposing fortress against the gray skies. He had made the half hour drive with a brick of anxiety sitting in his gut. How had he been stupid enough to agree to a date, especially one in public? Patrons won't recognize him, but Bin definitely could be. What would happen to Bin’s reputation if they're spotted together? What would happen if the tabloids released photos of them together?

 

What would his parents say?

 

As the light changes on the sign, Myungjun moves on autopilot with a small group of other people. He hasn’t come out to his parents yet. His brother knows, having found out Myungjun was dating the other intern when he was still in high school. He’d asked that Myungjun keep his feelings to himself and not act on them.  _ If not for yourself, then for Mom and Dad. Don’t make them suffer. _ Myungjun swallows the sour taste on his tongue and pulls his jacket hood over his head.

 

Of the people crossing the street, it seems Myungjun had been the only one heading to the museum. He brushes the bits of snow off his shoulders and shakes it out of his hair as he enters. Two of the employees behind the ticket counter glance up at his arrival and watch as he shuffles away from the door looking for Bin. His text from five minutes prior had said he was already here. Had he lied? Had he stood Bin up? Myungjun grips the end of his scarf, taking a few more steps to see more of the grand entrance. Only a mother cooing into a stroller is nearby. Was Sanha right? Was Bin playing games with him?

 

“You look worried.”

 

Myungjun jumps as a hand slides onto his lower back. Beside him is the familiar form of Bin, a hat low over his brows and a mask obscuring the bottom half of his face once more.

 

“I went to the bathroom,” Bin explains in a low tone. “Are you okay?”

 

“Uh—” Myungjun nods, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Yeah. Great.”

 

Bin frowns and reaches up to tug his mask under his chin. Myungjun grabs his wrist, halting his movement.

 

“Not a good idea.” Myungjun releases Bin’s wrist as he notes the understanding in his eyes. “Just— Can we get away from the entrance?”

 

Bin nods, brows drawn together as he guides Myungjun to the gallery entrance. They check their coats in, the employee attaching paper tags to the wrists so they can pick them up later. Another employee standing at the rope barrier takes their tickets and tears them in half. Myungjun feels her eyes glued to them until they round a corner.

 

With his back to where foot traffic would come from, Bin pulls his mask down. “Really, are you okay, Myungjun? You looked worried.”

 

Myungjun nods, biting his bottom lip. “I’m fine. It’s good.”

 

Bin’s fingers wind between his own, his skin warm and smooth. Myungjun stares at their hands for several seconds before letting his eyes find Bin’s.

 

“I thought you might’ve lied.” Myungjun swallows. “I was outside and I was thinking that someone could catch us and then I walked in and I didn’t see you. I was being irrational. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do that.”

 

Bin shakes his head. “I understand. It’s hard to fight thoughts like that sometimes. But I’m here. You’re happy I’m here, right?” Bin smiles, his lips twisting upward in a way that makes Myungjun’s heart pound. “I’m glad  _ you’re _ here.”

 

Myungjun barrels forward, wrapping his arms around Bin’s waist and pressing his face into Bin’s shoulder. Bin lets out a soft gasp before his arms snake around Myungjun’s shoulders and his face presses into his hair.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bin laughs, rubbing Myungjun’s back.

 

Myungjun nods, pulling away. “Yeah, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I made it. The traffic was pretty crazy.”

 

Bin had the foresight to grab a brochure for them to use to guide their own tour. They roam hand-in-hand, gazing at the art hanging on the walls with silver plaques beside them. Myungjun tells Bin about his dad’s artwork and the exhibitions he’d attended. Bin shares the story of when he’d got separated from his mom at a children’s museum and fell asleep in the bathroom. The few other people in the museum pay them no attention, too captured by the art to judge them. With each step they take, tension bleeds out of Myungjun until he’s giggling as Bin makes puns out of the names of the paintings and points out strange designs that only he sees in the art.

 

Myungjun stops for a long time in front of an abstract minimalist piece. Bin stands behind him with hands on his hips and chin on his shoulder, his thumb running in small circles over the top of Myungjun’s hoodie.

 

“What do you think it is?” Myungjun asks, breaking several minutes of quiet.

 

Bin hums, shifting to hug Myungjun from behind. “A campfire.”

 

Myungjun grins. “A campfire?”

 

Bin makes a noise of approval, so low that it vibrates against Myungjun’s back. He reaches over Myungjun’s shoulder to point. “The flicks there at the bottom are the fire, and the ones at the top are hands holding marshmallows.”

 

Myungjun snorts. “Where do you see the marshmallows?”

 

“They’re right there!” Bin laughs, pointing eagerly. “Can’t you see it?”

 

Myungjun pulls Bin’s arm tighter around himself, shaking his head. “You’re delusional. Those flicks at the bottom are mountains and the ones at the top are birds drawn big because of perspective.”

 

Bin sighs. “Okay, sorry I don’t understand art like  _ you  _ do.” He wraps both arms around Myungjun’s stomach again. “Or maybe you’re looking at it too much.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “You're supposed to appreciate art for a long time. You’ll learn something from it if you look long enough.”

 

“Yeah? I should stare at you more, then.”

 

Myungjun gasps, looking at Bin and his satisfied smirk. “I’m not— You—” All the blood in his brain has taken a vacation in his cheeks. He pouts.

 

Bin laughs, pointing to the next piece. “What about that one?”

 

Myungjun shuffles over with Bin still holding him from behind. It’s a much different piece of art, most of the canvas spotted with black paint save for several gray shapes and a splash of red in the middle. As Bin kisses the side of his head, Myungjun realizes how close Bin is standing behind him. A host of butterflies migrate into his stomach. What would someone say if they saw them? Myungjun ignores the lump in his throat.

 

“I see a snake,” Bin announces. He points over Myungjun’s shoulder again. “The tail is there and the mouth is there, see? It has its mouth wide open.” He mimics the shape with his hand.

 

Laughter builds in Myungjun’s chest, his worries already forgotten. “What are you talking about? Is the snake the focal point of the piece?”

 

Bin nods once. “Definitely. I don’t know what all that red stuff is though.”

 

Myungjun considers the piece seriously, the shapes taking on life in his head the longer he looks. “It’s a dress.”

 

Bin sways. “A dress, hm?”

 

“A woman in the dress. See, her head is there. That snake you see is her arms, and the dress is below her. She has people holding her up.” He pauses. “She’s a ballerina.”

 

Bin’s head presses to the side of his own. “You see the weirdest stuff.”

 

Myungjun turns in Bin’s arms as he laughs, hitting his chest lightly. “You see a snake and nothing else! How am I seeing weird stuff?”

 

Bin smiles down at him. He’s had his mask tucked under his chin for the better part of their date, only pulling it up when he sees someone he thinks might recognize him. Myungjun is glad he can see Bin’s smile. He has a beautiful smile. It lights up his entire face, his brows arching and his nose scrunching up.

 

Bin leans forward, pressing a kiss to Myungjun’s forehead for the second day in a row. Heat extends from Myungjun’s cheeks to his neck and ears as Bin pulls away, looping their fingers together.

 

“Come on,” Bin says as he pulls Myungjun further down the hall. “There’s a lot of art to see before the afternoon rush and I can’t spend the whole time looking only at you. How about we check out that sculpture exhibit?”

 

Bin keeps hold of his hand as they walk, swings their arms while they wait for the elevator, and kisses the back of Myungjun’s hand right before they step out on the second-floor. Myungjun is in the clouds. On any other day, he would’ve loved to see the detailed sculptures before him. With Bin next to him, he can hardly look anywhere else. Bin catches him staring several times, smiling sweetly as he bumps Myungjun with his shoulder.

 

At the end of the exhibit, they catch up to a tour group. An older couple, a man in his mid-30's, and two college-aged girls stand in a semi-circle around the group. Bin pulls his mask up over his face as they inch close enough to listen in. His hand stays in Myungjun’s.

 

“—last work before he disappeared from the public eye seven years ago.” Myungjun resists the urge to join the huddle; he can hear well enough from here. “His wife has been the subject of much of his previous spotlight, as she has consistently unveiled new sculptures of her husband’s. It’s unclear what prompted him to abandon the spotlight.”

 

Bin’s thumb traces over Myungjun’s. “Did you know that?” he whispers as he leans close.

 

Myungjun shakes his head as he trains his eyes on the closest sculpture—a woman pulling her hair to the top of her head. Even if he spent years learning how to carve stone, Myungjun doubts he could make something so realistic. If it weren’t for the dark gray color of the stone, he would think the statue was made of flesh and bone.

 

The tour guide leads the group from the room and Bin tugs Myungjun towards the sculpture the group had gathered around. Hundreds of skillfully carved tiny people clamber over one another in a pile, limbs everywhere as they struggle to reach the peak of a mountain with no reward. Beside him, Bin sighs.

 

“Art I can understand,” Bin says.

 

“Understand it how?”

 

“Don’t you get it?” Bin doesn't look away from the sculpture. “People get stuck in jobs they don’t like and won’t gain anything from, but they keep going anyway because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin seriously. “Is that how you feel?”

 

Bin blinks, looking at Myungjun. “What?” He laughs, shaking his head. “No, I love what I do. I mean, I didn’t love it as a kid. My mom was my manager, carting me from audition to runway to advertisement shoot. I didn’t get to spend a lot of time being a kid, but now I’m grateful for the childhood I had.” He rubs the side of his neck. “Though a break would be nice from time to time.”

 

Myungjun smiles, pressing into Bin’s side. “You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for.”

 

“Thanks— wait, what people?”

 

“We should get lunch.” Myungjun starts out of the room, a grin forming on his lips.

 

“Wait, Jun! What people?”

 

There are a few more people entering the museum when Myungjun and Bin return to the foyer. They retrieve their coats and slip into them, keeping their faces down as they scoot through the door. A few meters from the door, Bin grabs Myungjun’s hand and breaks into a sprint. Myungjun laughs, the sound echoing off the building as he stumbles behind Bin.

 

They don’t stop until they’re a block away from the museum, where Bin takes in a deep breath, bending forward. “Think we’re in the clear?”

 

Myungjun bites back his smile as he looks around with a semi-serious expression. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

 

“Good.” Bin straightens, grabbing Myungjun close in a hug.

 

Myungjun squeals, staggering as he loses his balance. Bin keeps him upright and close to his chest as he laughs. The sound rumbles against Myungjun and his cheeks flush again. Bin’s body is warm against his. Myungjun could almost forget about the chill if Bin would hold him close for a while.

 

That would be too public for their private relationship. Bin pulls away after only a few seconds. He busies himself with zipping up Myungjun’s thick jacket and tucking his scarf into place. Myungjun watches the care in Bin’s eyes swell. He reaches over Myungjun’s shoulders to pull his hood over his hair. If Bin weren’t wearing his mask, Myungjun might pull him down and kiss him.

 

The intrusion of such an intimate thought hits Myungjun like a train. He gasps softly, coughing as he turns away from Bin’s now concerned expression.

 

“Wrong pipe,” he mutters as he presses a hand to his chest.

 

Bin sighs, shaking his head. “You should be more careful than that.” He pauses. “Were you serious about lunch?”

 

Myungjun clears his throat, nodding. “Of course I was.”

 

Bin looks at the sidewalk, lightly dusted in snow disrupted by several dozen passing feet. “I thought I’d just walk you back to your car.” His eyes brighten as he glances up at Myungjun. “I was worried the date was over.”

 

Myungjun  _ really  _ wants to kiss Bin. He doesn’t, instead slipping his fingers between Bin’s and squeezing his hand. “Let’s go.”

 

As Myungjun drives to their destination, Bin tells him stories. He shares the time he faked being sick as a kid to skip an audition and the time his mom forced him to go when he had a cold. He tells Myungjun about his first manager’s odd habit of eating hard-boiled eggs at all hours of the day. Before Myungjun can interject a question, Bin barrels on to share the story of how he first met Seungkwan; his stranger-turned-manager had found him passed out at a party and immediately kept him away from prying eyes.

 

Myungjun relaxes into the stories, slipping in a question or two when he can as the streets become familiar. He used to walk these streets after school with a sketchbook in hand. There are a few dozen sketchbooks tossed somewhere filled with the quick ink lines of buildings and faces and clothing.

 

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” Bin watches a kid pass them on a skateboard.

 

“Somewhere important.” Myungjun ducks to see under his visor, turning down a narrow, one-way road. “We’re nearly there.”

 

Bin is quiet for only a second. “Did you grow up around here?”

 

“Intuitive as ever.” Myungjun flashes him a smile. “What gave it away?”

 

“The look on your face, actually.” Bin returns the grin. “You have this shine in your eye and usually places from someone’s childhood are important.”

 

Myungjun points down a road. “I grew up that way. Three blocks down, second-floor corner apartment. We had a great view of the alley.”

 

Bin hums. “But you moved here from Suwon, right?”

 

Myungjun nods, his smile never leaving his lips. He’s certain he only mentioned it once or twice, but Bin is attentive. He’s remembered small details about everything Myungjun has told him.

 

“We’re here.” Myungjun pulls close to the side of the road before turning off the car. “I used to come here alone a lot. It was a safe place of sorts.” He runs his hand over the steering wheel. “That’s not weird, right?”

 

“Not at all.” Bin unbuckles, leaning towards Myungjun. He speaks in a low voice as if sharing a precious secret. “I used to sit on the floor outside the convenience store at the end of our road and eat ice cream by myself.”

 

Myungjun stifles a laugh as he climbs out of the car. The building is exactly as he remembered it. Some of the bricks in the brown facade have fallen out, replaced with bricks of pink and blue and yellow. Plastic, glittering garland hangs inside the windows. A large ivy sits by the front door with its limbs gathered and wrapped around the pot. Directly above the plant is a sign that reads of the shop’s name:  _ Over the Rainbow. _

 

“Completely inconspicuous,” Bin mumbles, words muffled by his mask. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

Myungjun nods. “They’ve always been nice to me, and nobody else should be here right now.”

 

The bell above the door jingles as they enter. From the kitchen of the small restaurant comes a clatter followed by swearing, a smack, and the sound of shuffling feet. Myungjun pulls Bin into a booth as the back door swings open.

 

“Welcome to—  _ Myungjun?”  _ The older woman, thin with gray-streaked hair tied into a loose braid, brightens. “Myungjun, is that you?”

 

Myungjun bows. “Hi, Auntie.”

 

“Nonsense! You can’t disappear for a year and give me that kind of greeting!” Eunjung rounds the counter, drawing Myungjun out of the booth to hug him. “How have you been? How’s work?” Her eyes shift from Myungjun to Bin and back. “Did you finally get a boyfriend?”

 

Myungjun coughs, his cheeks stinging.

 

“He did.” Bin slides out of the booth, bowing. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Bin lets out a gasp as Eunjung slaps his upper arm. “Listen!” she shouts. “You take care of Myungjun. If I see him coming back here and learn that you did to him what either of those two boys before did, I’ll add your eyes to the soup!”

 

Myungjun covers his mouth as Bin’s eyes go wide.

 

“I wouldn’t—  _ What?”  _ Bin looks from Eunjung to Myungjun frantically.

 

Myungjun slips around Eunjung, patting Bin’s shoulder. “He’s great, really. This is our first date, though, so be easy on him.”

 

Eunjung narrows her eyes at Bin for a moment. “Fine.” She smiles as she turns to Myungjun. “What’ll it be? The house’s famous sandwiches and fries?”

 

“That would be great.”

 

Eunjung heads to the back room, shouting orders through the door and continuing to shout once she’s beyond them. Myungjun deflates as the door swings shut.

 

“You called her auntie.” Bin raises a brow. “Is she really your aunt?”

 

“Far from it. This is a—” Myungjun frowns. “People like me—like  _ us _ , I guess—come here a lot. She’s accepting of everybody and offers this place as a safe haven of sorts.” Myungjun slides into the booth and Bin slips in beside him. “I found this place while walking one day and spotted a couple in here on a date.”

 

“So she knows you’re gay.” Bin smirks. “I thought you said you never told anybody.”

 

“Well, I didn’t.” Myungjun rubs his hands together. “She must’ve guessed when I brought a boy in here and kissed him.”

 

Bin raises a brow, his smirk growing. “You kissed a boy in here?”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. Don’t look at me like that.”

 

“Like what?” Bin scoots closer, sliding an arm over Myungjun’s shoulders. “Do you want to kiss a different boy now?”

 

Myungjun swallows, holding Bin at arms length. “We shouldn’t—” His eyes dart to the large windows of the shop. The street beyond is empty. He glances at the still-closed door to the kitchen.

 

Bin doesn’t fight to lean closer. “If you don’t want to kiss me, you can say it.”

 

“No! I do, but not  _ here.”  _ Myungjun sighs. “I have a bad memory is all. The last time I kissed a boy here, he didn’t break up with me. He kissed a girl in front of me and we never spoke again."

 

Bin’s amused grin drops. “Oh, Jun, I’m so sorry.”

 

Myungjun pulls his arms back to himself, scowling at the table. “He was a jerk. I kept coming back here because I love this place, but I didn’t come here with anybody else. There was only the one other guy I dated, and that didn’t end well either.” Myungjun sighs. “Two bad beans already.”

 

“Well, now you’ve got a good Bin.” Bin grins, pulling Myungjun into his side as he pokes at him. “That was funny, right? Come on, you know it was funny.”

 

Myungjun can’t maintain a sour mood around Bin. He smiles, nodding. “Okay,  _ ha ha, _ you made a joke.”

 

Bin is quiet for a moment. His eyes are bright under the fluorescent lights, the reflection from the yellow walls turning his skin a pallid tone. “Do you really want to kiss me?”

 

Myungjun blinks. He’d said that, hadn’t he?

 

Bin tugs his mask under his chin, a smug smile turning the corners of his lips upward. “If you kiss me here, I promise I won’t leave you. Not on the same bad terms that asshole before did.”

 

Myungjun almost does. He wants to so badly close the gap between them, but a stab of worry keeps him from moving.

 

He looks away from Bin. “But you still might leave.”

 

Bin’s eyes go wide. “Myung—”

 

The kitchen door swings open, and Myungjun instinctively slides out from under Bin’s arm.

 

“Two of our house famous sandwiches!” Eunjung announces. “I kept one of them the way you like it, Myungjun, and I made sure Siwoo didn't skimp on the fries.” She smiles, unaware of the tension in the air before her. “Yell if you need anything else, dear.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t move even once she’s disappeared behind the door. He stares at the sandwiches before them as a pickle threatens to escape the confines of the bread.

 

“I didn’t mean it that way, Myungjun.” Bin fits their fingers together. “I’m not planning to leave you any time soon. I like you a lot. You know that, right?”

 

“But you could still leave. It would be so easy for you.”

 

Bin pauses. “What?” His voice is quiet.

 

“You could stop answering my texts and ignore me and move onto someone else,  _ anybody  _ else. You have all the class and fame and fortune to be with whomever you want—someone who’s better looking than me, smarter than me, a better designer, a better artist. Instead, you’re choosing to be with  _ me _ , a nobody with the smallest fraction of experience in this sort of relationship and it doesn't make sense.”

 

Bin squeezes his hand, pulls it to his lips, and kisses the back of it. “You’re an idiot, Myungjun.”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin sharply, tugging his hand from Bin’s grasp. Bin keeps a tight hold on it. “Is that your way of reassuring me?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Bin shakes his head. “You’re probably the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “I’m not feeling very reassured.”

 

“Have you stopped to ask yourself why  _ wouldn’t _ I date you?” Bin traces his fingers. “What reason is there for me to not date you?”

 

“You could have anybody you want.”

 

“And I want  _ you _ , Jun. You and your dumb ideas and your brilliant designs and your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you talk about the things that are important to you. It doesn’t matter what the other people are or can do when you exist in all your perfection.”

 

Myungjun hadn’t taken Bin for a man able to use his words so prettily. “But I’m just an assistant. I’m not a designer. I’m not rich or famous or attractive like a model or an idol.”

 

“Well, I’m going to have to stop you there, because you’re right. You’re  _ more _ attractive than a model. You  _ are  _ a designer even if nobody knows your name yet, and being an assistant doesn’t diminish your abilities.” Bin sighs. “Are you starting to understand the idiot statement yet?”

 

Myungjun bites the inside of his cheek. “Do you mean it?”

 

Bin grins. “Yes, I mean it. You are most definitely the biggest idiot I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

 

“No, not that.” Myungjun looks at their joined hands. “Do you really like me? Am I really not just some fling to entertain you until someone else comes along?”

 

“Myung—”

 

“Are you serious about me?” He pauses. “About us?”

 

“Wholeheartedly.”

 

“I’ve seen the kind of things that pop up about you and I don’t want that. I want something real, something that’s  _ mine.”  _ Myungjun closes his eyes for a brief moment. “I don’t want my thoughts to be right about you.”

 

“And what are those thoughts?”

 

“That this is temporary. That I’m a toy to you. That you're going to toss me to the side as soon as someone else comes along. That I’ll only have your attention as long as I’m interesting. That it won’t matter how much I like you because you don’t actually feel the same way.”

 

“I’m only going to say this once more. You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

 

Bin fingers slip under Myungjun’s chin. He lets Bin pull his gaze up.

 

“I  _ really  _ like you, Jun.” Bin’s gaze is serious and unwavering. “Maybe you didn’t catch it, but I called myself your boyfriend to that woman before. If you’d let me, I want to be.”

 

“You… did?” Myungjun pulls away in realization. “You  _ did.”  _ He laughs, covering his mouth with his hands. “Bin, you called yourself my  _ boyfriend.” _

 

Bin grins. “I would tell every person on the street that you’re my boyfriend if you’d let me.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head wildly, grasping both of Bin’s hands. “No, we can’t. I don’t want it getting out. My parents—”

 

Bin laughs, the sound brighter than the sun. “I’m not going to unless you say it’s okay, but I  _ want  _ to. I want to post pictures of you and call you my boyfriend. I want to hold your hand on the streets.” He ducks his head as pink grows on his cheeks. “I want to be the boyfriend that picks you up from work and takes you out for dinner and buys you flowers and necklaces. I want to do all that cheesy stuff from the movies in broad daylight so everybody can see how much I like you.”

 

“Bin—”

 

“And I want to kiss you.” Bin pulls their joined hands up. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

 

Myungjun glances outside the shop. The street is empty aside from a stray dog. He glances at the undisturbed door to the kitchen. He looks at Bin, at his wide eyes and pink cheeks and their hands clasped under his chin.

 

Myungjun takes a deep breath.

 

“Kiss me, then.”

 

Myungjun closes his eyes as their lips press together. Bin’s fingers slide into his hair, Myungjun grabs the front of Bin’s coat, and their lips begin to move. A thousand alarms ring in Myungjun’s head. They’re not far from his childhood home in a place tainted with bad memories and the possibility of an audience joining them at any moment. Myungjun ignores all his thoughts to focus on the feeling of Bin’s chapped lips moving against his.

 

Bin pulls away first, pressing a quick second kiss to Myungjun’s lips before setting their foreheads together. Myungjun keeps his eyes closed for a while longer. When he opens his eyes, Bin is staring back at him.

 

Bin’s thumb bumps his ear. “Your lips are soft.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “And yours are chapped.”

 

Thirty minutes of gentle conversation pass as they work through their sandwiches. Myungjun lets Bin feed him fries, giggles bubbling in his chest when Bin pecks him on the lips right after each time. Left in the quiet shop front, they finish their meal and leave money on the table.

 

As Myungjun blasts his car’s heater, Bin leans across the center console and kisses him. Myungjun kisses back eagerly, not minding who might see them as Bin’s lips slip against his own.

 

“You made a terrible mistake, Myungjun,” Bin whispers as he pulls away. “I’m never going to stop kissing you now. Your lips are going to hurt from so many kisses.”

 

Myungjun smirks, pecking Bin on the lips. “I won’t mind.”

 

As Myungjun drives back to the main road, Bin watches the buildings pass. “Did you like growing up here?”

 

“It was nice. We moved here when I was in middle school, ya know, so it was a little hard to get used to things. New school, new kids.”

 

“Do your parents still live here?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “They moved back to Suwon when I graduated high school. Mom works for an online magazine now and Dad has his paint studio set up in the garage.”

 

“You worked with your mom for a while too, didn’t you? At the…  _ The Cut?  _ Right?”

 

Myungjun nods. “They’re out of business now, though. That’s why Mom had to switch jobs.” He thinks for a moment. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, my mom.”

 

“You should call her.”

 

Myungjun glances at Bin. “I don’t know. We stopped being as close when we moved here.”

 

“But you’re still on good terms, right?” Bin leans towards him, elbow on the center console. “Or did you stop talking to her on purpose?”

 

“No, we’re on good terms.” Myungjun chews on his bottom lip. “It’s not the same as the relationship you have with your parents.”

 

Bin hums. “My parents would like you.”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Don’t start thinking about introducing me to them yet, Bin. This is only our first date.”

 

“Well, whenever it  _ does  _ happen, I know they’ll like you.”

 

Myungjun smiles. He’d like to meet Bin’s parents. He’d like to be dating Bin long enough for that to be a reasonable step in their relationship. He’d like to be able to tell his parents about Bin one day, too, and maybe his parents could meet Bin’s. He’d like to walk down a busy street hand-in-hand with Bin, not caring who sees as the sun shines over their heads and the birds sing in the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, leave me a comment~ I'd love to hear what you thought.
> 
> If you want to get a sneak peak at bits of chapters early, find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/snibwrites) because I post the occasional spoiler!


	6. The Queen and the Pawn

Miss Kim has changed. She no longer engages Myungjun in casual conversation. Her orders are terse, and she’s withheld any compliments that might’ve passed through her head in the last week. Myungjun can’t say he minds. The quiet from his isolation in her office gives him space to focus. It’s taxing but uncomplicated work; he's the middle man for every model-designer pair as they try to arrange their first meetings and prepare for the spring exhibition.

 

Myungjun has his own design to worry about, too. His model  (a girl named Daeun, younger than him by several years) had already agreed to a meeting next Monday. There are only two weeks until the new year, three months until the spring exhibition. Myungjun tightens his grip on the pen he’s holding to control his excitement.

 

Working for Miss Kim has introduced him to good company, but the spring exhibition will be his first opportunity to showcase his talent. He’d almost gotten his name out into the world on accident. Spilled coffee had led to Dongmin wearing his design, but the credits had listed Miss Kim and not him.

 

Seeing Miss Kim’s name where he had expected his own only caused a spark of disappointment in his chest. In comparison, when he returned to work after the winter exhibition and his date with Bin, a mountain of nerves had sprung from his stomach. Though the stinging in his cheek had long since subsided, he tiptoed around Miss Kim for the first two days. She said nothing to him those first two days. On the third day, she’d given him a folder with the information of all the designers and models and had him organize it before dismissing him at lunch. That had been a week ago.

 

Myungjun looks up from his papers, his thoughts interrupted as the heavy door to Miss Kim’s office swings open. An unfamiliar face slides through the crack, eyes scanning the room and finally landing on Myungjun.

 

“Uh, Miss Kim said to set the room and bring her guest here. They should be arriving in half an hour.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “A guest? Who is it?”

 

The young girl shrugs. “I don't know. I'm only an intern. Miss Kim didn’t seem happy, though, so I would hurry.”

 

“I get it. Thank you, uh—what’s your name?”

 

Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to make a mistake!” She bows, her head narrowly missing the doorframe.

 

“What? You’re not in trouble.” Myungjun crosses the room, patting her on the shoulder as she straightens. “I just wanted to thank you properly.”

 

She nods, sticking her hair behind her ear. “It’s Hyeri, sir. Cho Hyeri.”

 

Myungjun forces a smile. Are all the interns as jumpy as this? Is this the nature of interns, or has Miss Kim already begun to strike down their confidence? If Hyeri is like this, then how is Sanha? Myungjun has only run into Sanha a handful of times during work and only once when he was with Miss Kim—when she'd reprimanded him for taking Bin to her office. That seems like years ago though it’s only been several months.

 

Myungjun pushes the door open a little more. “You can call me Myungjun. Get back to your tasks, okay?”

 

“Yes, sir—Myungjun. Thank you.”

 

Myungjun allows the door shut after she leaves and traces the wood grain with his eyes. Miss Kim has rules she requires her employees to follow. Every boss has rules. Myungjun had rules to follow while working at both magazines, and he’s sure there are rules models have to follow, too. Why do Miss Kim’s rules bring a sour taste to his tongue?  _ Keep your head down. Speak only when spoken to. Remember they are a client, not a friend. Stay focused. Don’t divulge the details of your private life. Know you are replaceable and work as such. _

 

It takes ten minutes for Myungjun to set up the office for a guest. Miss Kim hadn’t told him there was a guest and Hyeri hadn’t been helpful in that regard either. He sets the couches back in order, fluffing their pillows. He clears off Miss Kim’s desk and makes sure the lock on the wardrobe that holds her one-of-a-kind pieces for upcoming events is secure. The folder he'd been working out of gets stuffed into his backpack, which he puts on a chair in the corner. Myungjun sets the lock for the door and heads down the hall into the elevator.

 

The lobby is quiet for mid-morning on a Monday. Myungjun sits patiently, twisting his watch around his wrist as he waits. Should he be anticipating a model, a designer, a director? Is this an interview? Should he have made coffee for Miss Kim to share?

 

Myungjun approaches the clerk at the front desk. “Hi, you’re Jaewoo, right?”

 

Jaewoo peers at Myungjun through his rimless glasses. “And you’re Miss Kim’s assistant. What can I do for you?”

 

“Miss Kim has a guest today, but she didn’t tell me who it is. I was hoping you might be able to fill in the blanks.”

 

“One moment.” Jaewoo searches the computer for part of a minute. “Only one guest today. A woman named Han Haeyoung. The note says ‘interview’.”

 

Myungjun furrows his brows. “Interview? Does it say for what?”

 

Jaewoo shakes his head. “‘Fraid not.”

 

“Okay. Uh, thanks.”

 

At five minutes until the hour, a young woman with a thin nose enters the foyer. She sheds her jacket and Myungjun waits for her to adjust her dress as the blast of cold air makes its way to him. She’s on the taller side, thin, and well-proportioned. Miss Kim had spoken before about signing a group of models to work with her exclusively. Is that what the interview is for?

 

Myungjun intercepts the young woman halfway from the door to the front desk. “Han Haeyoung?”

 

She smiles, showing off her bright teeth. “That’s me. I’m here for an interview with Alex.”

 

_ With Alex.  _ Myungjun only knows a handful of people who call Miss Kim by her first name and the only one he’d met was Director Seo months back—that was the day he first met Bin.

 

“Well, this way.” Myungjun gestures towards the elevator near the back of the foyer. “We’ll take the elevator to her office.”

 

Myungjun is quiet for the first dozen floors. An employee from marketing joins them, leaving only one floor from where they boarded. A couple of interns almost roll in a mail cart before realizing there isn’t enough space. Haeyoung taps away on her phone, the tiny clicks of her nails on the screen like darts piercing Myungjun’s ears.

 

Miss Kim has done the same thing more times than Myungjun can remember. He’s sat in the back of cars with her as her nails tap her phone. He’s sat in her office and listened to her nails scrape and tap at her computer keyboard. He’s heard her nails tapping against ceramic coffee cups and plastic chairs and doors and walls. Everything she does is audible. Her nails on her phone, her heels against the tile, her clothes scratching as she sways, as she saunters, as she crosses the room and raises a hand to strike him—

 

“You’re here for an interview?” Myungjun asks with a phantom sting on his cheek.

 

Haeyoung nods, tucking her phone into her designer purse. “Alex is a friend of my mom’s and she called a few days ago to offer me the position. She knows administrative work is my strong suit.”

 

“Administrative work?” Myungjun ignores how his breath shakes. “What position are you interviewing for?”

 

“Alex wants me to be her assistant.” Haeyoung’s smile falls away. “ _ Oh.  _ Oh my gosh. You must be her current assistant. I’m—” She covers her mouth with a hand.

 

Myungjun had always expected it to be a spear jabbing into his heart. He’d agonized over the possibility of losing his job since the day Miss Kim hired him. There’s a voice deep in Myungjun’s head telling him Miss Kim will fire him soon, but it’s quieter than the elevator music. It’s screaming at him from the bottom of a canyon and he’s wearing earplugs.

 

“Miss Kim always needs the extra help,” Myungjun says with an easy smile. “She always has me doing something, so I hope you get the job. We’d be working together a lot, and you seem like great company.”

 

Myungjun can’t read Haeyoung’s expression. He doesn’t try to. He stands with his back against the side of the elevator, as far into the corner as he can, and stares at the numbers above the door counting higher and higher. His heart is working hard, squeezing in his chest. His hands refuse to be still so he clasps them behind his back as tightly as he can. In his heart, he knows what he said is a lie, but it’s a lie that will help him keep it together for the next ten minutes at least.

 

The elevator opens on floor 35, and Myungjun sweeps his arm toward the hall. “After you.”

 

Haeyoung appears to know where she’s going; she struts beside him instead of following behind. As soon as the door to Miss Kim’s office is open, Haeyoung pushes inside. She makes herself comfortable on the couch, her purse set on the coffee table and her back to the windows. There’s a moment of silence as Myungjun watches her staring around the room before her eyes land on him.

 

“Do you know where Alex is now?”

 

Her words are a jolt of electricity. Myungjun shakes his head. “No, sorry. I’ll see if I can find her and send her your way.”

 

She nods. “Tell her not to rush if you find her.”

 

Myungjun’s feet are slow to respond to his orders. He snatches his backpack, clutching it against his chest as he speed walks to the elevator. He’s losing his job, isn’t he? How long does he have to find another job? Will he start the new year unemployed? Was Miss Kim even planning to tell him or was he going to arrive one morning and have to face Haeyoung turning him away at the door?

 

His heart is running a marathon and his head aches as he presses the button to call the elevator. Would Miss Kim be more upset at him if he asked for the rest of the day off? He’s losing his job, the one job he desperately wants to keep, the job he knows is more important than anything else he’s done.

 

He should call Bin. At the winter exhibition and at the museum, Bin had been his support. Bin held him and told him it would be okay. Bin kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back and helped him set his thoughts in order. Myungjun digs in his pockets, unable to find his phone. He checks his backpack, feeling around blindly for the device. The elevator doors open and Myungjun steps to the side to avoid colliding with someone.

 

Myungjun tightens his grip on his backpack as he looks up to meet the stranger’s—Miss Kim’s—eyes. “M-Miss Kim,” he stammers. “Uh, Han Young—Haeyoung. Han Haeyoung. She’s waiting for you in your office for the interview.”

 

Miss Kim’s smile is right from a children’s cartoon villain. She’s only missing the flickering lights and smoke to appear behind her. The amusing mental image does little to quell Myungjun’s anxiety. Luckily, Miss Kim has little interest in him today. He waits until the sound of her office door closing ceases its echoing before he resumes digging through his backpack.

 

One by one, he pulls all the items out, but his phone is missing. Myungjun packs his backpack again as his hands continue to shake. He left his phone in Miss Kim’s office, and it'll stay there for now. He can’t interrupt her now that she’s with her  _ guest _ . He’ll lose his job even faster if he intrudes. Myungjun holds his backpack to his chest like a bulletproof vest as he calls the elevator once more.

 

He needs to find Sanha.

 

Though they’ve been roommates for four months now, Myungjun and Sanha rarely talk about work when they’re home. With Sanha being an intern, they have drastically different schedules. The longer Myungjun thinks about it, the less sure he is if Sanha is even at the office. Interns work on Mondays, don’t they? Sanha had been awake this morning when Myungjun left for work. Surely he’s working today, too.

 

Myungjun pushes himself into the back corner of the elevator as another employee joins him. He needs to relax. The zipper of his backpack is pressing painfully into his palm, so he releases his hand. He unclenches his jaw and takes several deep breaths. There’s a chance he misinterpreted. Miss Kim could be hiring a second assistant, not his replacement. Her lack of communication could be due to focus on creating new programs. The coldness in her eyes when she looks at him could be a warning, not an exile.

 

The chatter of the marketing department hits Myungjun as soon as the elevator doors open. There’s laughter to the right, a shout from down the hall to his left, and fast-tempo pop music coming from an unseen speaker. Some of the anxiety in Myungjun is already melting, but he needs to find Sanha.

 

“Excuse me,” Myungjun says as he approaches the nearest person. “Have you seen Yoon Sanha? He’s an intern.”

 

She furrows her brows. “Yoon—The tall kid? Check Jinshik’s office. He’s always working in there with Taewoo.” She points behind and to his left. “Go that way and you’ll find it.”

 

The further Myungjun walks, the quieter the hall becomes. He reads every sign posted outside an office with care to avoid doubling back. Finally, he reaches the office of Marketing Director Ko Jinshik. It’s the last door at the end of the hall, situated into the corner of the building. Myungjun knocks gently and, when he hears no response, pushes the door open and sticks his head inside.

 

Myungjun’s stomach pushes into his ribs. Sanha sits on what must be Jinshik’s desk, papers under his butt and thighs, with his legs around the hips of another young man and their mouths pressed together. A thousand thoughts pelt Myungjun’s brain and a thousand more feelings coil around his heart. He steps into the room and shuts the door—loudly—behind himself as he puts all his anxiety behind a fence he can tear apart later.

 

The young man with Sanha’s tongue in his mouth is the first to react. He lets out a squeak as he pulls away, stumbles back from the desk, trips over his own feet, and almost falls to the floor. Sanha’s already-present blush deepens as he slides off the desk, a few papers escaping to the carpet.

 

“H-hyung,” Sanha stammers, his hands clasped in front of him. “Wh-what are you—”

 

“I  _ should  _ be asking what you’re doing.” Myungjun shakes his head, glancing at the door. “What if I was Mr. Ko? He’d fire you both for indecency. And on top of his  _ desk _ , no less.”

 

The other young man clears his throat. “We weren’t—I promise, it wasn’t what it looks like.”

 

Myungjun crosses the room, dropping his wrinkled and unzipped backpack onto one of four chairs surrounding a coffee table. “Keep your lies for those who didn’t see what I just did.”

 

“You’re not...mad?” The young man steps out of the way as Myungjun squats by the desk and gathers the scattered papers. “I thought if someone saw us, they might, I don’t know, start cursing us.”

 

Myungjun stacks the papers and looks the young man over once. He’s a little shorter than Sanha though still taller than Myungjun, and his brown hair is tossed as if Sanha had pushed his fingers through it. “What’s your name?”

 

“K-Kang Taewoo, sir.”

 

Myungjun furrows his brows. “What is with everybody calling me ‘sir’ today? Sanha”—the younger looks at him—”don’t you  _ ever  _ call me sir.”

 

Sanha had looked confused already, but it grows as he processes Myungjun’s statement. “I...won’t?”

 

“Now why, exactly, did you two think making out in the marketing director’s office was a good idea?”

 

“We weren’t,” Taewoo says immediately. Myungjun looks at him, and he shrinks, shoulders curling forward. “Sorry.”

 

Myungjun sighs. “I don’t care that you were, okay?”

 

He waves a hand at Sanha, making sure the younger is looking at him. There’s a familiar look in his eyes, so familiar it makes Myungjun’s head spin and his stomach lurch. Fear and shame live in Sanha’s eyes.

 

“I don’t care, but this isn’t the place for that. If you’re going to have a relationship, you have to be smarter about where you are when you put your hands on each other.” Myungjun huffs, unable to hold back his smile of disbelief any longer. “I mean, really, Sanha, Taewoo—” He looks at them both in turn.

 

“We won’t do it again, hyung.” Sanha straightens a little, glancing at Taewoo. “I promise. We were only taking a break from work.”

 

Myungjun feels the memory of a cool hand on the back of his neck and a desk pressed into his lower back. He sighs. “Take better breaks. Taewoo, can you give us a minute?”

 

Taewoo scurries out of the room without another word, closing the door behind himself. In the silence after, Myungjun deflates. He scoops up his backpack and sits in its place. Sanha and Taewoo, Miss Kim, Bin,  _ Songho _ —

 

He’d been in his last year of high school when he met Songho. He was taller than Myungjun, broader than Myungjun, but quiet like him. They worked hard, but their hands would brush any time they passed in the hallways. In the short breaks they did get, they stole away to storage rooms and once hid in a bathroom stall together. Those minutes had been the happiest moments of Myungjun’s days. Songho’s lips against his, their hands wandering teasingly over shirts and pants. One week turned into one month which turned into two, three, six months. The longer their days went on, the bolder they became. Songho pulled him into unoccupied offices and stole kisses when they were the only two in the hall. Myungjun never tried to deny that he had loved Songho though he’d never had the guts to say it.

 

“Are you sure you’re not mad?”

 

Myungjun frees himself of the memory. “What? Mad?”

 

“At Taewoo. At...me?” Sanha sits in the chair across from him. Gone is the fiery young man who threatened to hurt Bin a week ago in their apartment. In his place is a boy full of self-doubt only looking for love.

 

Myungjun might as well be staring through a window into his past.

 

“Because of what?” Myungjun leans forward, elbows on his thighs. “Because you were making out with a guy? No. Because you were doing so in Mr. Ko’s office? Maybe a little.”

 

Sanha cracks a smile as he picks at his nails.

 

“Does he treat you well?”

 

Sanha’s smile grows. “Yeah, he’s sweet and he’s thoughtful. He came over while you were”—his voice lowers to a whisper—”out with Bin last week.”

 

Myungjun smirks. “Didn’t we make a no secrets deal?”

 

Sanha nods slowly. “Yeah, but Taewoo says he isn’t sure if he’s...ya know.”

 

Myungjun fights the sourness burning in his throat. “Be careful, Sanha. I don’t want to say to think the worst is going to happen, but—”

 

“It won’t.” Sanha straightens, looking Myungjun in the eye. “We’ve been dating for a couple of months now and everything is okay. He’s just not comfortable with who he is, yet, that’s all.” The situation appears to dawn on Sanha. “Why did you come to marketing?”

 

Myungjun clenches his jaw, his back teeth pressing together almost painfully.

 

“Did Miss Kim send you for something? Should I go find Mr. Ko? He’s usually out on the floor. He only has Taewoo and I work in here because it’s quieter.”

 

Myungjun squeezes his hands into fists. “Miss Kim is going to fire me.”

 

Sanha says nothing for the first few seconds, and then, softly, “What?”

 

“Miss Kim is going to fire me,” Myungjun repeats. “She’s having an interview right now with the daughter of someone she’s friends with. The girl told me Miss Kim offered her a position as her assistant.” Myungjun’s voice shakes. “I’m going to lose my job.”

 

“She can’t fire you,” Sanha says indignantly. “You’re a great assistant! Plus you have to organize everything for the spring show, right? She’s not going to fire you.”

 

Myungjun hugs himself. “She’ll fire me after I’ve done the work. She did it to her last assistant, so why wouldn’t she do the same to me?”

 

Sanha grows quiet, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Did something happen?”

 

Myungjun raises a hand to his cheek instinctively. As worry flashes in Sanha’s eyes, Myungjun scratches his cheek and drops his hand to his lap. “Something?” he asks.

 

“I know you’ve seen the articles, hyung.”

 

_ Top Designer Alexandra Kim’s Former Assistant Claims Abuse. Alexandra Kim’s Former Assistant Calls For Investigation. Alexandra Kim Under Fire From Alleged Abuse Accusations. _

 

Myungjun tightens his grip on his backpack, the zippers biting against his fingers again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“She didn’t hit you, right?” Sanha pauses. “Her last assistant came out and said she was fired after Miss Kim slapped her and claims Miss Kim would call her names and—”

 

“That never happened.” Myungjun stands. “I have to go. Miss Kim will be expecting me to stay near her in case she needs me.”

 

“Myungjun, wait.” Sanha races forward to block his path to the door. “If she hit you, you need to tell someone. There are rumors a second former assistant of hers is going to come public with more information, too. I mean, if you’re worried about it being just you, it wouldn’t be.”

 

Myungjun swallows. There’s no way he’s going to put himself in the spotlight. If he does, it’ll only be a matter of time before a tabloid reports that he’s dating Bin, and the few ropes holding his life together will vanish.

 

“I have to go,” he repeats. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”

 

Myungjun keeps his eyes low as he shuffles to the elevator. He needs to get his phone. He’ll interrupt the interview, retrieve his phone, and lock himself in an unused office to finish his work for the day. He won’t read the articles the tabloids are publishing about Miss Kim. He won’t worry about losing his job. He won’t worry about what his parents might say if they find out he’s dating a man.

 

It takes a short eternity for Myungjun to arrive on the 35th floor again. He’d swung his backpack over a shoulder a dozen floors below; with nothing to hold onto, his nails dig into his palms. Miss Kim’s office is at the end of the hall, taking up a corner of the building, and the hallway leading to it seems to lengthen before Myungjun like a scene from a horror movie. He drags his feet as he goes. The longer he takes to arrive, the less likely he is to interrupt the interview. Should he wait outside the room? He can’t achieve any work without his phone; calling models and designers to confirm their pairing is his only task for the day. Giggling filters out of the room as he draws closer. How much longer could the interview last?

 

Myungjun stops outside the door and reaches toward the keypad. If Miss Kim is going to fire him, he wants it to be at least on good terms. He’ll wait until the interview is over. Myungjun drops his hand back to his side and backs up to the opposite side of the hall.

 

The door swings open, laughter pouring out as Myungjun’s entire body tenses. Miss Kim doesn’t glance at him, but Haeyoung does. She’s kind enough, at least, to offer Myungjun a small smile. Luckily, she doesn’t try to say anything. Myungjun wouldn’t hear it over the sound of rushing blood in his ears, anyway.

 

When Haeyoung has made it halfway to the elevator, Miss Kim finally focuses on him. The warmth on her expression is gone, and in its place is a stony facade Myungjun knows he’ll never get through even if he tries his hardest.

 

“You left your phone,” Miss Kim states. “Take it and head home. I’ll trust you can do the same work there as you can in the office.”

 

Myungjun’s hands are clammy. “H-home?”

 

“I want confirmation from every model and designer by the end of Wednesday.” Miss Kim steps back into her office, leaving the door open.

 

Myungjun won’t lose his job today, it seems. He scurries into the room after Miss Kim and straight to the coffee table where he’d last seen his phone.

 

“It’s here.” Miss Kim waves his phone at him from behind her desk. “Someone called you while I was in the interview.”

 

Myungjun’s stomach falls all 35 floors as a mantra starts in the back of his mind.  _ Don’t be Bin. Don’t be Bin. Don’t be Bin. Don’t be Bin. Don’t be Bin.  _ He measures his steps mentally and keeps his hands relaxed. It’s just a phone call. There’s no reason for him to be nervous except he had added a heart emoji next to Bin's name after their date last week.

 

“Called twice, actually.” Miss Kim hands him his phone. “I suppose everybody must have at least one friend.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t unlock his phone to check who called. “I hope it didn’t interrupt,” he says. “I’ll have the confirmations to you as soon as they’re finished.”

 

“Good. Leave.”

 

Myungjun bows before spinning and almost half-running from the room, pulling the door closed as he goes. He shoves his phone in his pocket as he walks. Bin wouldn’t call him in the middle of the day. Bin knows he’s at work. Myungjun is certain Bin has another interview today, anyway. Or is it tomorrow?

 

The bathroom on the 35th floor is always unoccupied on Mondays. Myungjun still checks that all the stalls are empty before locking the door and pressing his back to it. He stares at the black screen of his phone, sinking until he’s squatting against the door. Bin wouldn’t call him. There’s no reason for Bin to call him. Gripping the phone turns the tips of his fingers red, and his thumb shakes when he presses the home button to wake the screen.

 

_ Myunghoon. 2 missed calls. 1 new voicemail. _

 

Myungjun rests his head against the door as a sigh of relief leaves him. The unexpected calls had come from his brother. He unlocks his phone and plays the voicemail.

 

“Hey, Myungie”—he winces at the nickname—”I got home early for Christmas, and Mom and Dad wanted me to find out if you’re coming home this year. They know you’re busy with work a lot, but they’d love to see you.”

 

His brother pauses in the message, and Myungjun steels himself for what he knows is coming.

 

“You haven’t been home since Seollal and you never call. I know you’re busy with work, but Mom and Dad—” He pauses again. “Dad is gearing up for a gallery tour, and Mom says she might move into editing. I mean, did you even know that? I almost think you don’t care at all.” Another pause. “Anyway, let me know if they should fix a room for you or not.”

 

Myungjun cuts off the robotic female voice once the message ends by locking his phone. He keeps it pressed to the side of his face as he stares at the opposite bathroom wall. A small bug crawls through the crevice between two pieces of tile.

 

_ I almost think you don’t care at all.  _ Myungjun would rather spend a weekend in a garbage can than have to lie in his family’s faces for another day. There’ll be questions about work, and he’ll have to lie. He won’t be able to confide in them that Miss Kim slapped him or that he’s on the chopping block to lose his job. There’ll be questions about his romantic life, too, and he’ll have to continue the same lies he’s been giving since high school. He won’t be able to tell them he’s falling fast for a top model in the country—a warm, handsome, caring, genuine man who takes an interest in even the smallest aspects of his life.

 

Myungjun opens his phone’s address book and removes the heart emoji he’d put beside Bin’s name. Miss Kim would’ve fired him on the spot if she saw, and his parents can’t find out no matter how desperately he wants to tell them, and he  _ does _ want to. He wants to tell everybody. Myungjun wants to write that he’s falling for Bin on every billboard in the city. Bin, who cares about him. Bin, who understands his issues. Bin, who does his best to help him grow. Bin, who held him while he panicked and has reassured him every time he’s expressed his worries over their relationship. Bin, who called him an idiot and kissed him with no care for who might see.

 

Myungjun types a quick text to Bin.  _ Please call me if you can.  _ He does it without thinking, and the longer he waits, the deeper his frown carves. Bin is probably in the middle of an interview, and Myungjun is trying to contact him from the floor of the bathroom.

 

When Myungjun’s phone begins to ring and Bin’s picture—a selfie he’d sent Myungjun two days ago, wearing large circle glasses with the hood of a sweatshirt pulled over his dark hair—appears on the screen, he answers right away.

 

“Bin,” he says in greeting. “I—You’re not busy?”

 

“No, just hanging out with a couple friends who are”—his voice fades as if he’s pulled the phone away from his face—” _ really _ stupid.”

 

Myungjun can’t make out the comment, but Bin laughs (making Myungjun’s entire body grow warm) and shouts back something unintelligible. There are a few moments of quiet then Bin’s voice returns. “Were you missing me?” he asks, a teasing note in his voice.

 

Myungjun smiles. “Yes, actually. I just, uh, I wanted to hear your voice.”

 

“ _ Aww,”  _ Bin sighs. “You’re cute. Are you sure nothing’s wrong, though? Your message sounded worried.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. He can’t tell Bin he’s going to lose his job. Bin has his own things to worry about, and Myungjun can figure this out on his own. He’s handled changing jobs before. This is hardly any different.

 

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” Myungjun repeats. “I thought you had that pictorial shoot today, though, and I didn’t want to interrupt so I figured I would let you call me first.”

 

“The shoot and interview is tomorrow.” Bin pauses, and Myungjun can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again. “Should I sneak off and call you tomorrow, too? So you can hear my voice?”

 

Myungjun bites his bottom lip as his smile grows wider. “Would you?”

 

“Of course I would. I’ll text you a lot, too. You’ll get a first look at what I’m wearing for the photos, though it won’t be as great as what you could design.”

 

Myungjun giggles. “You’re only saying that because we’re dating.”

 

“No, I mean it! The stuff you make is great. I mean, the sketch you sent me of your idea for the spring show—you’re going to blow all the other designs out of the water, Jun.”

 

Myungjun ducks his head. “Well, thanks.”

 

“What are you up to today? Miss Kim have you running errands for her again?”

 

“No, she’s”—he frowns—”sending me home early. She has a few meetings planned and says she won’t need me here.” The lie comes easily and makes a bad feeling grow in his stomach.

 

“Well, since you’re free, can I take you out for a late lunch?”

 

Myungjun’s heart leaps, and his brain yanks it back to where it belongs. “I’d love to, but it’s the middle of the day and we might be spotted. Plus, I still have to finish work for Miss Kim.”

 

Bin is quiet for a while. “What about this weekend? I want to see you again, Jun.”

 

Myungjun smiles at the wistfulness in Bin’s words. “Do you want to come over to the apartment?”

 

“What about Sanha?”

 

“I should be able to talk him into leaving for the evening so we can have some time alone. He might even be heading home a little early for Christmas. His interning schedule is weird, so I’ll have to talk to him, but—Yeah. Do you want to come over this weekend? On Saturday?”

 

Bin chuckles. “I’ll mark it on my calendar. I should get back to the guys, though. They might start asking questions if I’m away for too long.”

 

Myungjun nods. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

 

“Definitely. Have a good day, darling.”

 

Myungjun smiles and ducks his head. “You, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is going to happen to Myungjun and his career? What do you think about Sanha and Taewoo? And Miss Kim— Tell me all your thoughts in the comments! Alternatively, you can come yell at me on Twitter [@snibwrites](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)!


	7. En Passant

  


Myungjun shuts off his alarm without opening his eyes, unlocking his phone to stop the noise and locking it again right away. The dread of Mondays never made sense to Myungjun. After his usual shut-in weekends, Monday mornings are often the height of excitement. Tuesdays, however, make Myungjun feel like the rest of the world does about Monday—the drag, the exhaustion, the reluctance to crawl out of bed and tidy himself for work.

 

Myungjun squints at his room. The sheer curtains hanging over his large windows do little to block the early morning sun, a choice he made to help him wake up faster. He pushes himself into a sitting position and frowns. One of his pillows has been tossed to the floor and his blankets are sliding off the edge of his bed, gathering dirt and dust from the yellow wood. He takes the time to right his room after a night of apparent fitful sleeping and sinks onto the mattress again.

 

His phone buzzes twice in quick succession on the small table he uses as a nightstand. Only two people would be texting him so early, and each possibility makes his stomach leap in a different manner. Dreading the messages are from Miss Kim and hoping they come from Bin, Myungjun unlocks his phone.

 

_Out of the office today. Don’t come to work._

_Get me those confirmations._

 

Miss Kim’s words come as a relief, but her name displayed on his phone makes Myungjun’s head spin. He needs to call his old boss. How long has he been working for Miss Kim? Five, six months? Is it too late to ask for his job back? Myungjun lays back on his bed with his phone in the middle of his chest, taking several deep breaths to quell the nerves that have already woken up inside him. As his phone vibrates again, Myungjun sighs.

 

Rather than frowning at the appearance of Miss Kim’s name and the default photo on his screen, Myungjun grins. Bin’s day has an early start, too. Myungjun turns up the volume on his phone and taps play on the video. A blow dryer forces his hair back off his forehead, the sound loud enough to make Myungjun cover his phone speaker with a thumb. The video ends with Bin blowing a kiss at the camera and smiling. A familiar warmth fills Myungjun’s chest.

 

Myungjun’s morning is slow without the pressure of arriving to work on time. He showers leisurely and ignores his usual outfit in favor of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Breakfast is usually a quick affair, but Myungjun now has plenty of time to cook. Sanha comes out of his room stumbling as he tries to finish buttoning his shirt when Myungjun is half done with his meal.

 

“Hyung?” Sanha freezes. “What are you doing here?”

 

Myungjun takes a sip of his drink. “Miss Kim said not to come in today.”

 

Concern flashes across Sanha’s face, quickly replaced with fake innocence. “Can I have some of your food?”

 

“No way, make your own.” Myungjun pulls his plate closer to himself. “I don’t get to eat breakfast like this usually.”

 

“Hyung,” Sanha whines. “Please?”

 

Myungjun glances at his food then at his roommate, a smirk coming onto his face. “You buttoned your shirt wrong.”

 

“What? I—” Sanha glances at himself for a brief moment before raising his eyes back to Myungjun. ”Don’t try to distract me from food with your lies!”

 

Myungjun doesn’t fight back as Sanha snatches his fork and takes a bite of his meal. “Can you do me a favor this weekend?” Myungjun asks. “Bin and I want some time together, but we can’t really go out. I said he could come over on Saturday, but we can’t have a date if you’re here.”

 

Sanha nods and takes another bite. “I can do that. Should I stay out the whole night? I mean, are you and Bin gonna—” He makes a lewd motion with his hands.

 

Heat rises into Myungjun’s neck. “N-no!” he stammers.

 

“Do you want to?”

 

Myungjun stares at his plate.

 

“You _do!”_ Sanha sets Myungjun’s fork on his plate and sits in the chair across from him at their small table. “If you think you might have sex, make sure you buy the right stuff before because it’ll hurt if you’re not—”

 

“Shouldn’t you be going to work?” Myungjun snaps. The blush has spread over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He’s never wanted to blink out of existence so badly before.

 

Sanha snickers and stands. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you alone with your sad breakfast.”

 

“It’s not—”

 

“It is! You burnt it.” Sanha heads to the door and begins shoving his feet into his shoes. “I’m surprised you didn’t set off the smoke alarm.”

 

“You—” Myungjun scowls. “Why did you eat it if it’s bad?”

 

Sanha shrugs, offering no answer as he grabs his keys and wallet from the table by their door. “But really, hyung, make sure you buy condoms!”

 

“Yoon San—” Myungjun is cut off by the door shutting as Sanha disappears into the hall. He rests his head on the table as the heat fades from his cheeks, his food growing too cold for him to finish eating.

 

For a couple hours, Myungjun works almost uninterrupted at the compact desk in his bedroom. The noise from the street below is minimal and Bin only texts him two more times (the first a close photo of his long dainty earrings and the second a photo taken in a mirror of his outfit, cut off jeans and a verdant green sweater with sleeves longer than his arms). Halfway between morning and lunch, Myungjun has received confirmation from all but one model-designer pair for the spring exhibition. He settles into the couch with a book he’s been trying to read for months, his phone on standby if he needs it.

 

The book grabs all Myungjun’s attention, the world around him receding until his phone begins to ring. He answers it without looking, expecting it to be the model or designer he’s waiting on.

 

“Kim Myungjun speaking.”

 

“So formal.” Bin laughs. “Do you always answer by stating your name?”

 

Myungjun grins and sets his book aside. “I wasn’t expecting you to be the one calling.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t find time to sneak away and call you during the shoot. We’re taking a break for lunch now, though, and I got to thinking.”

 

Myungjun hums as he grabs a throw pillow to hug. “Thinking about what?”

 

“Dropping by your place for lunch if you’d let me. I assume your roommate is gone for work and you’re at home all by yourself.” Bin pauses. “I miss you.”

 

Myungjun bites the pillow, pulling away as soon as he notices he’s done it. “I haven’t thought about lunch yet. I’ve been reading this book and”—he pulls his phone away to check the time, a gasp escaping him—”it’s already past noon.”

 

“Quite a bit past noon. Should I grab food on my way over?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Sure. Surprise me with your choice of meal.”

 

Bin laughs a little. “I’ll be there soon. Text me the code for your building’s door. I mean, unless you want to open it for me.”

 

Myungjun texts Bin the door code as he rushes to make the apartment appear cleaner than it is. Between his focus on the spring exhibition and Sanha taking on a second, part-time job to fill his days off, the apartment has descended into madness. Myungjun shoves dirty clothes into hampers and washes the dishes that have gathered over the last week. He arranges the throw pillows on the couch, lines up the pile of shoes in the entryway, and he waits.

 

Though he tries to return to reading his book, he’s unable to focus long enough to get through more than a paragraph. His palms are clammy and fish do somersaults in his stomach. The last time he saw Bin face-to-face was a week and a half ago. Work and the need for secrecy keep them apart, but Myungjun would spend every day with Bin if he could.

 

Myungjun runs to the door as soon as he hears knocking. Bin stands on the other side, a mask pulled under his chin and a bag of food and a small drink carrier in either hand.

 

“You made it,” Myungjun says. His smile might tear into his cheeks, but he doesn’t care.

 

“Not a lot of traffic around this time.” Bin shuffles into the entryway. His hands are full but he bends and presses a quick kiss to Myungjun’s lips. “The door downstairs? I had to retype the code three times.”

 

Myungjun stifles a laugh. “Yeah, it gets stuck. Here, let me—”

 

Bin raises the bag and drinks above his head. “I’m here to keep you company and make sure you don’t overwork yourself. Tell me where the plates are and go sit.”

 

“But—” Myungjun drops his arms. “You’ve already worked a lot today; I’ve hardly done more than eat and read and make phone calls.”

 

Bin shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

Bin steps out of his shoes and towards the kitchen. The warmth returns to Myungjun’s chest as Bin shucks off his jacket. There’s a small smile on Bin’s lips and he still wears the dangling earrings Myungjun saw in the photo earlier in the day. Bin pulls the food out of the bag and sets out their drinks. Myungjun watches every move, each reach and turn and head tilt more beautiful than the last. If Bin were a painting, he’d be a masterwork, studied and revered by all the artists in the world as they try to replicate his perfection but always fall short.

 

“Jun?” Bin leans on the counter, grinning at him. “Plates?”

 

Heat flares in Myungjun’s cheeks. “R-right!”

 

Bin’s eyes on him are like cameras capturing every twitch of his fingers and twist of his body as he retrieves two plates. He sets them on the counter and Bin’s arms wind around his waist to tug him close. Myungjun lets out a noise of surprise, laughter filling Bin’s chest in the moment it takes Myungjun to return the hug.

 

“You’ve had a good day, right?” Bin asks. His hands run up and down Myungjun’s back.

 

“Good enough.” Myungjun bites his bottom lip. “Better now that you’re here.”

 

Bin giggles and a seed of pride appears in Myungjun’s chest. “You’re just saying that,” Bin says with a small voice. “You don’t mean it.”

 

“I do!” Myungjun pulls back to look at Bin. The seed of pride grows into a tree. Bin’s cheeks are pink. “I mean it. I like when you’re around. You—” Myungjun bows his head. “You make me happy.”

 

Bin’s hands slide off his waist and cup his jaw, slowly bringing his face up. Whether it’s the week and a half of separation or Myungjun’s general excitement, he can’t say, but Bin’s lips feel like what Myungjun imagines heaven would; his lips are soft and caring in touch but confident as they move against his own. Myungjun wraps his arms around Bin’s waist to keep him close as Bin’s hands slip into his hair. He’s freefalling, hand-in-hand with Bin, plummeting towards emotions he hasn’t experienced in years.

 

Bin pulls away first, pressing several quick kisses across Myungjun’s jaw before hugging him again. “You make me happy, too, Myungjun. Happier than I can begin to put into words right now.” Bin kisses the side of his head. “Also, you look cute in sweatpants.”

 

They settle into the couch, their shoulders pressed together and plates in their laps with a rerun of a drama playing on the television. _Everything_ comes easily with Bin. He doesn’t need to worry about filling every second with conversation, both of them content to sit in silence. When he does speak, Bin is fully engaged with what he says. Though Bin finishes his food first, there’s no rush for Myungjun to clear his plate so they can move onto whatever is next. When Bin’s arm falls around his shoulders, it’s careful and soothing. Myungjun is safe around Bin. When Myungjun is finished eating, Bin takes their dirty dishes to the sink and returns with a mint for both of them.

 

Quiet fills the area as another episode of the drama begins to play. Myungjun leans forward for the television remote, taking a moment to change the channel to a more interesting show. He abandons the task after a few minutes of endless clicking and leaves it back on the same drama it was on initially. When he leans back, Bin’s arm has fallen into the place behind him. Myungjun lets Bin cuddle him, pressing a little closer. Bin’s shoulders are much broader than his, his chest stronger, his arms larger. He might as well be draped in a blanket.

 

“I’d stay here all day if you let me,” Bin says. “You know that, right?”

 

Myungjun smiles and tilts his head to kiss Bin’s cheek. “Who says I wouldn’t let you?”

 

“You’d have to deal with a dozen kisses an hour.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

“And random back hugs.”

 

“I’d take your random back hugs any day.”

 

“Aren’t you worried I’d distract you from work?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I already finished it all today. I’m only waiting on one call.”

 

Bin hums. “That’s a dangerous statement, Jun. You should never tell me you’re unoccupied.” His hand cups Myungjun’s jaw and he kisses him slowly. “If you tell me that, I’ll have to take it upon myself to keep you occupied.”

 

Blush dusts Bin’s cheeks. It’s cute and a clear sign he’s as invested in Myungjun as Myungjun is in him. A wave of confidence crashes into Myungjun.

 

“So keep me occupied.”

 

Bin smirks and bites his bottom lip. “You’re evil.” He pulls away a little with a laugh. “Completely evil. You have no idea what you’re insinuating, do you?”

 

Myungjun grins. “Why are you flustered? What happened to the cool and confident Bin?”

 

“Cool and confident Bin evacuated when you started flirting back.” Bin shakes his head. “You’re not supposed to do that. I’m supposed to be the flirty one in this relationship.”

 

Myungjun sits up. “Are you intimidated when I flirt with you?”

 

Bin laughs. “A little, yeah! I think I’m in over my head.”

 

Seeing Bin’s expression—his embarrassed smile, his wide eyes, and especially his pink cheeks—makes Myungjun’s confidence grow. He slides his hand over Bin’s chest, to the back of his neck, and tugs him close enough to kiss him. He does so lightly, barely pressing his lips against Bin’s before pulling away.

 

Bin makes a noise in the back of his throat, between a whine and a groan, and Myungjun's body tenses in a pleasant way. Bin’s hand grabs his waist and he kisses Myungjun hard. It takes Myungjun the first several seconds of the kiss to be able to focus on anything other than Bin’s lips, warm and soft against his own and tasting of peppermint. He slides his hand into the back of Bin’s hair as Bin drags his body closer and kisses him deeper. Myungjun arches towards Bin, his other arm curling over Bin’s shoulders as he leans closer. If Bin tries to get any closer than he already is, he’ll have to lay down over Myungjun. The possibility makes Myungjun’s stomach clench.

 

Bin’s kiss becomes more shallow one by one. He pulls his head away and Myungjun chases his lips until he can’t anymore. He opens his eyes before Bin and watches as Bin focuses on him; the look in his eyes is a drug Myungjun is already addicted to.

 

Bin smiles at him. “If I didn’t have somewhere to be in an hour, you’d have to force me out of your apartment.”

 

Myungjun plays with Bin’s hair. “Do you have to go back?”

 

“We got through some photos and the interview, but they want me to come back in again and try on more outfits.”

 

“Will you stay here until you have to head back?”

 

“Of course.” Bin kisses him. “But keep your flirting to yourself.”

 

Myungjun laughs, pulling away from Bin. “Why should I do that? You started it.”

 

“That doesn’t—Shut up!” Bin smacks Myungjun’s leg playfully before situating his arm around his shoulders again and tugging him close.

 

They fall silent again. Myungjun traces the ridges of Bin’s knuckles and trails a finger up his arm, following the curve of his muscle. Bin kisses him not infrequently, stealing Myungjun’s attention away from the television. He doesn’t mind. Bin’s lips are far more interesting than the drama. The way he kisses Myungjun steals his breath, even when its a kiss lasting only a few seconds.

 

Myungjun’s phone rings in the middle of one of Bin’s kisses. Myungjun hums, reaching for it without looking. “Bin, hang on. It might be the designer I'm waiting to hear from.”

 

“Let them call back later.”

 

Bin tries to draw him back into a kiss, but Myungjun answers the phone before Bin gets a chance. “Kim Myungjun speaking.”

 

“Yes, hi. I’m one of the designers for Miss Kim’s spring exhibition.”

 

“Right!” Myungjun sits up. Bin is clinging to him, kissing wherever he can, which happens to be Myungjun’s shoulder and upper arm. “What’s your name?” Myungjun already knows, but he asks to be sure.

 

“Hwang Hyungmin. I’m paired with the model Jang Yoonhee.”

 

“Right, right.” Myungjun bites back a gasp as Bin’s lips find his neck. “Have you organized a schedule with her?”

 

“I’m actually having trouble reaching her. That’s why I’m contacting you. I was wondering if you might give me the phone number I’m supposed to call again. I think I'm dialing the wrong number.”

 

“Of course. One moment, please.” Myungjun pulls the phone away from his ear and gasps as Bin nips at his jaw. “Hey,” he hisses. “This is for work.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Bin whispers back.

 

Myungjun shakes his head and drags himself towards the end of the couch. He’d left his folder of names and numbers on the end table for this very reason. Bin slides along the couch with him. As Myungjun searches the pages for Jang Yoonhee’s contact information, Bin presses into his side. His lips are noisy as he kisses Myungjun’s neck. Thankfully, Myungjun had the forethought to hold his phone away. Hopefully, the designer can’t hear the kisses.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun whispers. “Please. Give me five minutes.”

 

“Call him back later,” Bin mumbles. He wraps his arms around Myungjun’s waist. “I’ll probably have to get going soon.”

 

Myungjun looks away from the list for a moment, frowning. “This should only take me a minute if you’d give me the chance.”

 

Bin hums and shakes his head. His lips return to Myungjun’s neck, loud again as he kisses slowly. Myungjun tilts his head away, barely withholding his gasps as he tries to search his papers. When Myungjun finally finds Jang Yoonhee’s name among the long list of models and designers, he pushes Bin off his neck and pulls the phone close again.

 

“Mr. Hwang?”

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“I found the number.” Myungjun relays the information. As he does, Bin takes hold of his free hand and kisses the back of his hand and his palm. Myungjun stutters, the kiss tickling his skin.

 

“Okay, thank you,” the designer says. “That’s the number I have, too. Do you know why I'd be having trouble contacting her?”

 

“I’m sorry, I d”— Myungjun gasps as Bin kisses his wrist—”I don’t know what the issue might be.”

 

“Do you have a number for a manager?”

 

“I, uh. One moment.” Myungjun sets his phone on the end table and turns to Bin. He doesn’t get any words out, however, before Bin’s lips are on his asking for attention. Myungjun whines and kisses back for a moment before pulling away with a soft laugh. “Bin, please,” he whispers. “Just one minute.”

 

Bin is so close Myungjun might as well be sitting in his lap. As Bin’s lips trail over his jaw and up the curve of his ear, sending shivers down Myungjun’s back, Myungjun flips through the papers in the folder. The model’s paper is near the back, and there’s a number for a manager scrawled at the top.

 

Myungjun picks his phone up again. “Okay, I have a number for Jang Yoonhee’s manager. Have you tried calling her on other days as well, or only today?”

 

Bin’s lips trail to the back of Myungjun’s hairline. Myungjun bites his bottom lip to stifle the gasp stuck in his throat.

 

“I’ve tried for the last few days,” the designer says. “It goes straight to message every time.”

 

Myungjun relays the number for her manager. “I hope you can reach her through her manager. Have a nice day!”

 

Myungjun ends the call quickly as Bin’s lips fall against his own again. He can’t help the soft moan that leaves him as he sets his phone and folder aside and kisses Bin back deeply. Bin grabs him by his hip and pulls him onto his lap. Myungjun lets it happen. He wraps his arms around Bin’s shoulders as he straddles Bin’s lap. Without needing to worry about someone hearing through the phone, he eagerly leans into the kiss.

 

Bin, surprisingly, pulls away from Myungjun’s lips first. He sighs, pressing his face against Myungjun’s shoulder. Myungjun giggles and runs his fingers through Bin’s hair slowly. A moment later, Bin’s phone rings. Myungjun pouts, staying on Bin’s lap as Bin grabs it.

 

“Yeah?” Bin says to the person on the phone. He sounds breathless, and Myungjun leans down to kiss Bin's jaw. Bin's hand tightens on his waist. “Right now? Yeah, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

Myungjun’s pout turns into a frown as Bin hangs up. “Do you have to go?”

 

Bin nods. He sets his phone aside and kisses Myungjun again.

 

“You can’t go,” Myungjun whines. “You were only here for a little while.”

 

Even though he protests, Myungjun knows it wouldn’t be great if he kept Bin from his work. He slides off Bin’s lap and follows him to the door, dragging his socked feet over the wood floor.

 

“I’ll see you again on Saturday.” Bin kisses him lightly on the lips and stoops to slip on his shoes.

 

“You’ll text me, won’t you?” Myungjun wraps his arms around Bin’s waist when he stands again, peering up at his boyfriend with what he hopes is a cute expression.

 

It must be, as Bin laughs softly. “I’ll even call you before bed if you want me to.”

 

Myungjun bids Bin good luck at his shoot and locks the door once he’s gone. He relaxes on the couch for half an hour with the memory of Bin’s lips against his fresh in his mind. Myungjun lets the book he'd been reading draw him in again and Sanha returns home not long after with heavy feet but a warm smile. As the evening begins to settle into the city, Sanha leaves for his second part-time job and Myungjun is alone again. He sits with his book until Sanha returns. Only then, with his friend home and the door locked, is Myungjun able to settle into bed.

 

Bin calls him an hour before midnight. His voice is scratchy and low and trailing with sleep. “You weren’t asleep yet, were you?”

 

Myungjun smiles into the darkness of his room. “Not yet, no.”

 

“Good. I wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”

 

Myungjun hums and rolls onto his side. “Did the rest of the shoot go okay?”

 

“Yeah. They had me wear this plastic jacket for one outfit. It was noisy. It squeaked every time I moved.”

 

Myungjun giggles at the image in his head. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever had to wear?”

 

“Probably the hot pants. They were bright blue, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, and I mean, I have nice looking legs, but—”

 

Myungjun can’t help his laughter. He covers his mouth with a hand in hopes of muffling it so he won’t draw Sanha’s attention at least.

 

“Don’t laugh!” Bin whines. “I really do have nice looking legs.”

 

Myungjun swallows his laughter but a smile stays plastered on his face. “I’m sure you do.”

 

“You don’t believe me, do you? I’ll prove it to you!” Myungjun hears rustling on the other end of the bed. “I actually took them from the set. I should have them around here somewhere.”

 

Myungjun coughs. “You’re not going to put them on now, are you?”

 

“I have to! You don’t believe I have nice looking legs!”

 

Myungjun sits up in bed. “I never said that! Look, I believe you, okay? Don’t go through all the trouble of—”

 

“It’s no trouble at all!” Bin’s voice sounds distant. He must’ve set his phone aside and put Myungjun on speaker. “I keep all my stolen pieces in one place. Usually, all I take are weird items. There are some shoes I had to wear before, too, these wretched sandals. They had little rhinestones in stripes across the top, and they were the most uncomfortable shoes ever.”

 

Myungjun leans back against his pillows. “I figured clothes at shoots would be uncomfortable. They’re made to look stylish, not for lounging around on a midweek afternoon.”

 

“They’re not always uncomfortable. Once I had a pair of pants th—” Bin stops and Myungjun hears a clattering of hangers followed by a swear. “I’m okay!” Bin shouts. “My rack fell.”

 

Myungjun laughs shortly. “You’re making a mess, aren’t you?”

 

“It’s worth proving a point!”

 

“Bin, it’s nearly midnight. This can wait for the morning, can’t it?”

 

“Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.” Myungjun hears shuffling and Bin’s voice sounds closer to the phone. “As I was saying, once the stylists put me in this pair of pants made of the softest material you could imagine. They were stupidly long, though. I had to pull the legs of the pants up like a dress if I wanted to walk without tripping or stepping all over the fabric, but I would deal with that every day if I could because they were so comfortable.”

 

Myungjun makes a mental note about Bin’s love for odd but comfortable fashion. “Did you take those home, too? I’d like to see how much extra fabric you were hauling around.”

 

Bin laughs. “Unfortunately, no. They wouldn’t let me keep those.” He falls quiet for a few seconds, and then he sighs. “Okay. Check your messages because I just sent the photos.”

 

Myungjun’s phone buzzes several times as Bin says that. He puts his phone on speaker and switches to his texts. A gasp escapes him as soon as he sees the photos.

 

Bin laughs. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they? But they make my legs look good!”

 

Myungjun can’t argue with that statement. The lapis blue shorts hit Bin’s legs right above mid-thigh, exposing his muscles there and the muscles in his calves. Bin sent him three photos, each one taken in a full-length mirror, each from a different angle. Myungjun covers his mouth with his free hand at the last one Bin sent—taken from the side, his foot pointed to flex the muscles in his leg, with just his smirk visible at the top of the photo as he pulls his shirt out of the way of the shorts so they’re unobstructed. Myungjun saves the photo and takes his phone off speaker as Bin starts speaking again.

 

“I wish I could’ve spent more time with you today,” he says with a sigh. “It would’ve been a thousand times more fun than being stuck in the plastic jacket for 45 minutes.”

 

Myungjun smiles and slides in bed until he’s lying again. “We’ll have Saturday afternoon and evening together. Most of the day to ourselves. Sanha promised me he’d be out until late, too, so we won’t have to worry about him coming home and interrupting.”

 

“Interrupting, hm?” Myungjun can hear the smirk in Bin’s voice. “Did you have something in mind for us to do that we wouldn’t want to be interrupted in the middle of?”

 

Myungjun sputters, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “I need to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“Wait!” Bin laughs. “Wait, don’t hang up yet. Let me at least tell you good night properly.”

 

Myungjun tugs his blankets up to his chest. “Fine.” Myungjun waits quietly, but Bin says nothing. “Well?”

 

“It’s weird when you put me on the spot!”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “Good night, Bin.”

 

“Good night, Jun. You’ll dream about me, right?”

 

Myungjun giggles. “You’re going to make my face permanently red, ya know. I’ll have to go into work tomorrow looking like I’m sunburned.”

 

“You can tell them it’s from dreaming about the hottest man in the country. I’m as hot as the sun so you got sunburned from being near me for too long.”

 

“Okay, I’m seriously going to sleep now!”

 

Bin laughs. “Okay, okay. Sleep well, lovely.”

 

“Y-You, too.” Myungjun hesitates for a moment but ends the call first, not wanting to turn into one of those _no, you hang up_ _first_ couples. He finds sleep easily, and when he wakes, all he remembers from his dreams is Bin’s smiling face.

 

The rest of Myungjun’s work week passes slowly, every minute feeling like an hour as if the universe is determined to keep him away from Bin for as long as possible. Myungjun only sees Miss Kim a handful of times each day. Each time she gives him only the briefest of attention before leaving. There’s no praise from her for a job well done as she so easily used to give. He doesn’t have time to ask her how her designs are coming. Though the minimal interaction should put his mind to rest, it only sets him closer to the edge.

 

At the end of each day, however, when Myungjun crawls into bed and lays his face into his pillow, his phone rings. Bin fills him in on what he did and asks how Myungjun got through the day, and the call ends each time with neither one of them ending the call right away, holding onto the silence for a few seconds before resigning themselves to cutting off their contact for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long, but I'm finally back! Sometimes I just hit a rut and feel like I can't write. This chapter was initially going to be close to 20,000 words, but I split it. The missing 15,000 will be in the next chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though~ Leave me a comment and let me know if you did! If you didn't like it, you should leave me a comment, too! I'm always open to (nice) constructive criticism.
> 
> If you want to talk about the fic more or catch spoilers for this fic and others I'm working on, you can find me [on Twitter @snibwrites!](https://twitter.com/snibwrites)


	8. En Prise

Myungjun wakes on Saturday morning to a note set on top of his phone. Sanha’s handwriting is messy and severely slanted, making it almost impossible to read. Myungjun blinks hard and rubs his eyes before the words finally clear.

 

_ Headed out early to meet up with Taewoo. I’ll be back around midnight. Don’t forget to buy condoms! And lube! _

 

Myungjun crumples the note immediately and sets it out of his mind. There’s a good morning text from Bin waiting for him with a photo attached: Bin, still in bed, with a goofy smile on his face and his hair poking out over his ears. Myungjun lays in bed for a little while longer, staring at the photo with an equally goofy smile on his face. After a few minutes, he finally rises from bed to start his day with a quiet breakfast, a shower, and the start of setting the apartment in order for Bin’s arrival.

 

Myungjun never considered himself the romantic type. He loves romance, of course, as most people do. He loves romantic movies and the thought of walks on the beach at sunset. He’s read many romance novels and lulled himself to sleep imagining what it might be like were he beside someone.

 

Having that life turning into a reality for him is not what he expected. For some time he’d resigned himself to the future of being alone. As he stands in front of his closet, he finds himself smiling. Bin will probably wear something casual but classy; a collared shirt tucked into dark denim jeans or a v-neck sweater over tailored pants. Myungjun digs out his red turtleneck and pulls on a pair of jeans at random, his thoughts lingering on Bin. Is he getting ready now, too? Does he have some sort of plan in mind for their stay-in date?

 

Myungjun’s mind flashes to Sanha’s note, but he shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. That won’t be necessary. He could buy some things to make the date nicer, though. Some candles or a white tablecloth to drape over the scarred wood of the dining table could be nice. Would Bin like it if Myungjun bought him flowers?

 

There’s a store not far from the apartment where Myungjun finds everything he needs (even the  _ intimate  _ items, which he threw into his basket quickly as he ignored the burning of his cheeks; he could see Sanha in his mind, doubling over in laughter at Myungjun’s embarrassment). He drums his fingers across the table as he eats lunch alone in the apartment, eyes glued to his phone sitting beside his plate. Bin has been awfully quiet. No other texts since his morning greeting, no phone calls to confirm their date.

 

Myungjun jumps when he hears the knock on the apartment door, so lost in his thoughts that the sudden sound scares him for a brief moment. A familiar voice calls to him from outside.

 

“Myungjun? Are you home?”

 

Myungjun wipes his mouth and shuffles to the front door to open it. On the other side, Bin smiles at him from over the top of his mask pulled down on his chin.

 

“You’re here early,” Myungjun says with a grin, pulling the door far enough back to let Bin in.

 

Bin joins him in the small entryway, shutting the door behind himself. “I had an early lunch and I didn’t want to wait around.” He sets down a small backpack at the edge of the entryway, where the floor changes from tile to wood. “It felt strange to call and ask if I could come over yet, so I figured I’d take my chances and show up.” Bin slips off his heavy jacket. “Were you having lunch now?”

 

Myungjun bites the inside of his lip to quell his smile. “What gave it away?”

 

Bin smiles. “I have a sensitive sense of smell. Dad used to tease me about it, called me a bloodhound.” He tucks his mask into one of his jacket pockets, hangs it beside Myungjun’s on the hook on the wall, and sighs as he faces Myungjun again.

 

Myungjun raises a brow. “What is it?”

 

“I missed you.” Bin slides his arms around Myungjun, squeezing him against his chest for what Myungjun determines to be far too short a time. “Don’t let me keep you from eating, though. Pretend I’m not even here yet.”

 

“Hard to do that when you come in here looking like this.” Myungjun gives Bin a once over, grinning at the graphic tee tucked into the front of his fitted jeans. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re handsome?”

 

Bin smiles and bends to kiss Myungjun on the forehead. “Yeah, I’ve heard that from time to time. I could stand to hear it a couple dozen more times from you, though.”

 

“Okay, but don’t let it go to your head.”

 

Bin keeps up a gentle conversation as Myungjun finishes his lunch and takes care of the few dirty dishes in the sink. When he’s nearly done with the chore, Bin slides up behind him, standing close with his hands on Myungjun’s hips.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I did dishes if I’m honest.” Bin’s chin settles on Myungjun’s shoulder.

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Not all of us can live the same high life of luxury you models get to.”

 

Bin snorts. “That’s not what I meant. I’m on the move so often that I’m always eating out or snacking. I haven’t cooked in”—he sighs—”a few months at least. Maybe even before I met you.”

 

Myungjun shuts off the water, dries his hands, and turns in Bin’s embrace. Bin steps closer, forcing Myungjun to press into the counter behind him.

 

“Do you want to cook dinner with me tonight?” Myungjun asks as he slides his arms over Bin’s shoulders. “We’d have to go buy ingredients; Sanha and I don’t keep our kitchen well stocked.”

 

Bin hums, sliding his hands to press against the small of Myungjun’s back. “Do you have something particular in mind?” He kisses Myungjun carefully, preventing him from answering right away.

 

“Nothing particular, no.” Myungjun smiles a little. “What’s your favorite dish?”

 

“Anything with meat.” Bin kisses him again, quick this time. “Anything where there’s a lot of it.”

 

Myungjun laughs, tugging Bin down to kiss him once more. “I’m not a great cook, so I’d probably embarrass myself trying to make something for you.”

 

The conversation is lost to Bin. He doesn’t respond except by kissing Myungjun again, his arms wrapping more securely around his waist. Myungjun doesn’t mind in the slightest. He parts his lips as his hands come to rest on Bin’s broad shoulders before skimming over his chest to grab at his shirt by his waist. Kissing Bin is like dancing in the clouds. Myungjun tilts his head to the side instinctively as Bin’s lips trail over his jaw and along his neck, soft and warm and welcome.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun says, but his voice sounds odd to his ears. His tone is breathy, fluttering at its edges; and his lips are heavy, greedy for Bin’s.

 

If there was a reason why Myungjun called his name, he forgets it as soon as Bin presses another kiss to his neck and hums in acknowledgement. “What is it?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Nothing, I guess.”

 

Bin presses a final kiss to Myungjun’s jaw and another to his forehead. “What’s going on?” Bin rubs his waist. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“What?” Myungjun laughs, sliding his hands up to Bin’s shoulders again. “No, not at all. I’m just happy.”

 

Bin smiles. “It’d be strange if you weren’t happy right now.”

 

Myungjun plays with the collar of Bin’s shirt. “Not only right now. I’m happy around you all the time. I thought for a long time that I wouldn’t be happy in a relationship, but I am.” He ducks his head. “That’s probably dumb.”

 

“You always say that.” Bin kisses the top of his head. “You say something cute and then try to dismiss it. Don’t do that, okay?” He pulls Myungjun against his chest, and Myungjun hugs him tightly. “If you want to say something, say it. Nothing you say is dumb. I want to hear everything you have to say.”

 

“I—Okay.” Myungjun kisses Bin on the cheek. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

 

“Actually, I brought some cards and one of my favorite poetry books.”

 

“Poetry?”

 

“Yes, poetry. Didn’t I tell you I write sometimes?” Bin leads Myungjun to the couch, stopping to grab the backpack he set down earlier. “I mean, my writing isn’t great. There are far better poets out there, but I like to think I can put together something good every once in a while.” He sits on the couch, and Myungjun falls into place beside him.

 

“Did you bring some of your own poetry to impress me?” Myungjun leans into Bin’s side, peering into the bag as the other begins to dig around inside.

 

Bin shakes his head. “It’s not... Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, actually. My poetry is… Personal.” He offers Myungjun a small smile. “One day, though, I’ll write something for you.”

 

Myungjun stretches to kiss Bin on the cheek. “I’m going to hold you to that, so you better mean it.”

 

Bin laughs and, not for the first time, Myungjun’s chest fills with warmth. “So, this poet”—Bin hauls a book out of his bag, a black cover embossed with gold lettering in English—”is one of my favorites. His poems are stories.”

 

Myungjun blinks at the title. “And you read it in English?”

 

Bin nods once.

 

“You  _ do  _ understand how impressive that is, right?”

 

“Ah, well.” Bin smiles, a light pink color growing on his cheeks. “I’ve studied a lot in my downtime. Some of my friends can speak even more languages, though. Take Sungyong, for example. He speaks English  _ and  _ Thai. And there’s this Chinese model I met once who speaks English, Japanese, and Spanish.”

 

Myungjun wraps his arms around one of Bin’s, squeezing his muscle lightly. “It’s still impressive that you speak English.”

 

Bin opens his mouth, seemingly to disagree, but he smiles instead. “Let me read you one of my favorites.”

 

Myungjun’s eyes scan the page as Bin reads. The letters are familiar, but the words have no meaning to him. The pattern of the words resonates with him. Bin’s words carry them like the melody of a song and Myungjun finds himself lulled into a sense of peace as Bin reads. His voice is slow and warm as he spins a tale Myungjun can’t comprehend. It’s soothing, in a way, to be able to focus on the way Bin speaks rather than the words themselves. Myungjun could listen to Bin read poetry for hours and never find himself bored.

 

When Bin finishes, he closes the book and holds it in his lap. “Was it good?”

 

Myungjun grins. “I have no idea what you were saying.”

 

Bin laughs. “I figured that much. It’s actually a pretty sad story, but I love the way it sounds. The man in the poem lost his love. He thinks there’s someone at the door, but there isn’t, so he goes to check the window and a raven flies into his room. He starts speaking to the raven, asking questions, and the raven keeps giving the same answer, telling him ‘never’ every time. It eventually drives the man into a fit because the last question he asked was if his love would ever return.”

 

Myungjun hums. “You’re right; that is a sad story, but it sounded nice when you were reading it. I like listening to you read.”

 

Bin’s fingers trace the gold lettering on the cover of the book as he bites back a smile. “You do?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Read another one.”

 

“All right.” Bin begins flipping through the pages. “How about a story instead, though? There are actual stories in here, not only poems. This writer was talented at both. This book is only a fraction of what he wrote in his lifetime.”

 

“You could read out of the dictionary and I’d listen to you for hours.” Myungjun squeezes Bin’s arm and leans his head on Bin’s shoulder.

 

Bin scoffs, holding the book open at what Myungjun assumes is the start of a story. “You’re just saying that.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I mean it. Your voice is—it's the best voice I’ve ever heard.”

 

Bin grins as he leans close enough to kiss Myungjun softly on the lips. He returns his attention to the book and begins to read again, and Myungjun does his best to commit the sound of the story to memory. Every moment of it is important to Myungjun. The places where Bin’s voice catches on words that are difficult to pronounce, the places where he has to repeat something because he skipped a few words, and the long moments where he reads uninterrupted are all important. When finally Bin seems done with the story, Myungjun draws him close and kisses him.

 

“Don’t let me bore you by reading the whole day,” Bin says when he pulls away from Myungjun’s lips. He sets the book aside before settling back into place. “Tell me this: do you have a bucket list? Stuff you want to make sure you do?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Do you?”

 

Bin shrugs. “A few things, but not enough to constitute a list. What’s the number one thing on your list?”

 

“Paris,” Myungjun says without hesitation. “I want to visit Paris. I want to kiss the person I love in front of the Eiffel Tower.”

 

Bin shifts, looking at him with a grin. “That’s romantic.”

 

Myungjun smiles shyly. “My mom had these French romance films. I’m not sure she ever watched them, but I found them one day. She and my dad were both gone for work and I’d just gotten home from school. I picked one at random and I was crying by the end of it even though I didn’t understand what they were saying.”

 

Bin coos. “That’s precious.”

 

Myungjun laughs and sits up a little. “It’s an embarrassing reason to want to visit Paris. I was somewhere around fifteen when I found the first one. So I was this teenager sitting on the floor of the apartment, alone, crying over foreign films every day after school when I had the chance.”

 

“I hope you get to go someday.” Bin squeezes his hand. “I hope you get to do everything on your bucket list. Everybody should have that opportunity.”

 

Myungjun sighs. “I’m not counting on a trip to Paris happening any time soon. I can barely afford to split the rent for this place”—he gestures at the apartment—”with Sanha. But maybe one day.”

 

Bin scoots on the couch until he’s close enough to kiss Myungjun, doing so gently. “You’re cute when you talk about things you like.”

 

“You’re cute when you kiss me.” Myungjun smirks and kisses Bin back. “Which means you’re always cute because you’re always kissing me.”

 

“I told you on our last date that your lips would hurt from how many kisses I would give you and I meant it. How can you expect me to resist when your lips are so soft?”

 

Bin kisses him again, but deeper this time. He sets a hand against the couch across Myungjun’s body, blocking Myungjun in place, and his other hand cups Myungjun’s jaw. Myungjun’s cheeks grow warm as he rests one hand against Bin’s chest. The kiss is over almost as soon as it began, though Bin doesn’t move away.

 

“And your lips taste like sweet lip balm, too.” Bin pecks him lightly.

 

“Lip balm?” Myungjun licks his lips. “I haven’t put any lip balm on.”

 

Bin hums, cocking his head as he looks at Myungjun. “You must be what’s sweet, then.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t get the chance to roll his eyes before Bin’s lips are on his again as his hand slips into Myungjun’s hair. Bin’s lips and tongue are music notes, his arms the lines of the staff, and Myungjun’s heart the erratic composer trying to contain it all. No matter how many times Bin kisses him, Myungjun is certain he’ll never grow tired of it. He grabs Bin’s waist with one hand and Bin gasps against his lips, squirming a little in place.

 

“D-Don’t grab me there,” Bin says, barely pulling away. “I’m—”

 

“Ticklish?” Myungjun digs his fingers into Bin’s waist a little.

 

Bin whines, pulling away from Myungjun’s hand and the kiss. “Don’t do that!”

 

“Why not?” Myungjun follows Bin’s retreat, poking at his sides. “I only want to  _ hold  _ you.”

 

“You—” Bin’s words break off into laughter as Myungjun begins to tickle him in earnest, following every twist of his body. “Don’t—Myungjun, cut it out!”

 

“Don’t cut it out?” Myungjun says through his own laughter. “Okay, if you say so.”

 

Bin scoots on the couch until he presses into the armrest, and Myungjun follows close. Several times Bin grabs Myungjun’s wrist and almost stops him, but Myungjun is too determined to hear Bin’s laughter and see his blush. When finally Bin has caught both of Myungjun’s wrists, he relents.

 

“You’re terrible,” Bin huffs. “A terrible, awful boyfriend.”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Does that mean you don’t want more kisses? Should we end the date—”

 

“No!” Bin sits forward and tugs Myungjun closer by his arms. Myungjun nearly loses his balance, having to press a hand against Bin’s shoulder to stop himself. “Don’t say that.” Bin's cheeks are flush, his eyes wide. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible today because who knows when we’ll get to be alone together again like this.”

 

“Bin…” Myungjun scoots close and kisses Bin. “We’ll just have to have quick moments together. Like how we had lunch a few days ago. And your phone calls every night—those can make my day go from miserable to”—Myungjun’s brows furrow as he tries to find the right word—”to blissful.”

 

Bin smiles so wide Myungjun can see his dimple. “I wish I could show you off to everybody. Take you to parties and dinners with me, if for nothing else than to be able to see you.”

 

Myungjun ducks his head and slips his fingers between Bin’s. “I’m sorry I’m not ready to—”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Bin rushes to say. “That’s not what I mean at all. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. All I hope is one day I’ll be able to.”

 

Myungjun nods. “One day. But it’ll have to be baby steps. I mean, I still haven’t told my parents.” He frowns. “I’m going home for Christmas next week and I’m going to have to lie to them again.”

 

“Do you plan on telling them?”

 

“I would, but it’s the holiday. I mean, I still haven’t worked up the courage to call and tell them I’m coming home. I don’t want to ruin anything. And with the New Year coming up, I’d like to be able to start off on the right foot, ya know? It’s… I don’t want to disappoint them.”

 

“Myungjun,” Bin sighs. He hugs him close, rubbing Myungjun’s back. “Whenever you want to tell them and whatever happens because of it, I’ll support you through it. Okay?”

 

Tears poke at the back of Myungjun’s eyes and he blinks rapidly to prevent them from falling. “That means a lot, actually, because they might never talk to me again when they find out.”

 

Bin hums. “Or they could surprise you and be completely supportive.” He pulls out of the hug. “I assumed my parents would be devastated when I told them, but I sat them down and said I can’t pick whom I love, and they respected that. And now they’re completely fine with it. They know I can probably still adopt kids someday, too, if it’s a man I decide to spend my life with, so they’ll be getting their grandchildren one way or another.”

 

Myungjun laughs. “Your parents sound like nice people.”

 

“Rather than going home, you and I should go visit my parents.” Bin rubs his hip lightly. “They’d be more than happy to have you over. The beaches might be a bit too cold to go to, but we could still find some way to have fun.”

 

It sounds like a dream. Spending a holiday away with Bin while avoiding having to lie to his parents—He can’t do that.

 

“I haven’t seen my parents in almost a year,” Myungjun says. “I’d love to go with you, but I can’t. My brother is already mad at me for not keeping in touch very well, and to completely avoid them during a holiday would drive a wedge even deeper between us. They might not get it, but they’re still my parents and I still love them.”

 

Bin kisses him quickly on the lips. “On another holiday, then, I’ll take you to see my parents.”

 

Myungjun nods once. “Agreed.” He glances past Bin, out the window behind him at the overcast sky. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

 

Bin’s brows furrow. “Won’t someone see us?”

 

“Well, you have a mask. I have one, too. I have a hat you can borrow. When we’re all bundled up, nobody will even know.” Myungjun smiles. “Good plan, right?”

 

Bin shifts around on the couch until he can see outside. “Take a walk to where?”

 

“There’s a park a few blocks from here, with a playground and some swings. Come on.” Myungjun gets up from the couch, grabbing Bin’s hand to tug him to his feet.

 

“What if it starts snowing while we’re out there?” Bin stands and looks at the window cautiously before turning to Myungjun again. “It’s cold. I don’t want you to get sick.”

 

“Aww.” Myungjun rises onto his toes and kisses Bin. “I’ll be okay. We can buy a hot pack for you if you want.”

 

Bin frowns. “I don’t need a hot pack!”

 

It doesn’t take them long to bundle up, with Myungjun wearing a beanie and Bin wearing one of his baseball caps. He wraps one of his scarves around Bin’s neck as well, tucking it into his jacket. When the first breeze hits him, Myungjun considers going back inside, but Bin grabs his hand and grounds him.

 

“If it starts snowing,” Bin says, “I’ll have to kiss you.”

 

Myungjun blinks. “What?”

 

“They say if you kiss someone you’re dating during the first snow, it means you’ll stay together for a long time.”

 

Myungjun smiles under his mask. “It already snowed this year, though.”

 

“But it hasn’t today.” Bin takes one step down the street. “Is it this way to the park?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Down three blocks and a right.”

 

Bin keeps pace with Myungjun, squeezing his hand as they walk. It should be too cold for them to hold hands without gloves, but Bin’s hand around his makes his entire body warm. He doesn't want to let go and he doesn't want someone to see them, yet some part of him also hopes they're spotted. Myungjun wants to tell the world how much he likes Bin. Myungjun wants to go to parties and events on Bin's arm and meet all his friends and get wrapped up in the life he's been dreaming of having since he was a child. Bin never once lets go of his hand as they walk and Myungjun smiles to himself.

 

When they reach the park, Myungjun slips his hand from Bin’s as he surveys the area. At first, he doesn’t see anybody. A moment later he hears childish laughter and a young boy runs around the playground set in the middle of the small park. A young girl chases after him, and behind her is another even younger boy. They all wear heavy matching jackets. As they disappear around the playground, a woman comes into view, sighs, and winds back to the other side.

 

“She has her hands full,” Bin comments quietly.

 

As the kids round the playground again, they take notice of Bin and Myungjun. The oldest boy skids to a stop. “Mister! Mister! Can you push me in the swing?”

 

His mom comes around quickly, whispering a stern word to her son before facing them. “Sorry! He’s a social one.”

 

Bin glances at Myungjun with a silent question on his face. Myungjun shrugs.

 

“I don’t mind pushing him for a little while, if it’s okay with you,” Bin says to the woman. “I’m Bin, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Myungjun hangs back as Bin exchanges greetings with each of the kids. The oldest boy leads the way to the swings as the other two scatter into the various brightly-colored equipment. Though he can’t quite hear what the boy is saying, he can see the enthusiasm in Bin’s responses as he pushes the swing into the air. Myungjun makes himself at home on one of the benches, smiling beneath his mask as his heart grows to let more fondness for Bin flood into his chest. How can one man be so kind, so caring, so selfless? Myungjun isn’t sure if he’ll ever know, but he wants to learn everything there is to Bin.

 

As the first snow flurries begin, the woman gathers her children to head home. Myungjun joins Bin beside the swings, waving back at the kids until they disappear from view. Bin turns to him quickly, wrapping both arms around him and letting out a high noise.

 

“It’s  _ freezing!”  _ Bin complains, hugging Myungjun tightly.

 

“You—” Myungjun glances around where he can see, finding nobody watching them. He wraps his arms around Bin’s waist and presses into his warmth. “Do you want to go back to the apartment?”

 

“Not yet.” Bin pulls away from the hug. “I promised you a kiss in the snow.”

 

Myungjun checks in every direction for someone to be walking by. The cold must be keeping everybody inside, or they must be lucky to have a few seconds with nobody around. Myungjun tugs his mask under his chin and tilts his head up expectantly.

 

Bin smiles down at him. He takes his time in tugging down his mask and lifting his hat out of the way so it won’t bump against Myungjun’s forehead. By the time their lips finally do meet, Myungjun almost wants to sigh in relief. Bin’s kisses are a candy Myungjun can’t get enough of. He resists the urge to pull Bin’s body closer, to kiss him deeper, and instead pulls away before someone has a chance to see them.

 

Bin blinks his eyes open slowly, a warm smile on his face. “Your nose is cold.” He kisses Myungjun’s nose before setting the hat back on his head. “We need to get you inside.”

 

In the same manner that they’d walked to the park, they make their trip back to the apartment and the warmth. They shed their jackets and masks and hats and shoes before falling together onto the couch, Myungjun cuddled against Bin’s side as he turns on the television.

 

It’s an odd thing, Myungjun thinks, to feel so comfortable beside Bin. The time they spend together never fails to put him at ease. From their first coincidental meeting at the shoot, Bin’s composure helped to dampen Myungjun’s racing worries—even if it was only for a moment, and even if it was by dragging all of Myungjun’s attention to the feeling of a hand on his back. 

 

As they watch a talk show, Myungjun yawns frequently. He tries to hide them to the best of his ability, but he grows lazy and lets out soft sounds with every exhale.

 

“Do you need a nap?” Bin teases as he rubs Myungjun’s shoulder.

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna be here with you.” Even as he says it, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

 

“I won’t mind. I’ll wake you up in about an hour or so, and you might be hungry by then.”

 

Myungjun presses his face into Bin’s shoulder, smelling the familiar floral detergent and crisp cologne mix _.  _ “I’m probably tired because of work,” he sighs. “Miss Kim hardly speaks to me, but I’m on edge even when she’s out of the room—which is most of the time lately.”

 

Bin turns the television down until it’s inaudible. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “You already know what happened. Ever since the winter exhibition, she’s been cold towards me.”

 

_ And she’s going to fire me soon.  _ Myungjun won’t tell Bin that. He doesn’t need to know. Myungjun emailed his old boss during the week and asked for his job back. As soon as he gets confirmation (as he surely will—his boss loved him and would no doubt love to have him back), he’ll submit his two-week notice to Miss Kim and be done with her for good. It’ll be an easy transition, and Myungjun can tell Bin after he’s settled into his new job. Bin has his own things to worry about, and Myungjun refuses to be an added weight to his shoulders.

 

Bin squeezes Myungjun closer to his body. He sets the television remote to the side and wraps his other arm around Myungjun as well. “Take a nap, Jun. I’ll wake you up in a little while.”

 

“O-okay.” Myungjun shifts a little to get more comfortable and closes his eyes. Wrapped in the warmth of Bin’s arms, with his head on Bin’s chest, Myungjun finds sleep.

 

When Myungjun wakes, the room is sideways— _ he’s  _ sideways. He furrows his brows and yawns, slowly pushing himself upright. A weight slides off his shoulder. Bin had put his jacket over Myungjun at some point during his nap and his head was resting in Bin’s lap.

 

“Good morning, lovely.”

 

Myungjun turns to Bin and fights back another yawn. “Morning? I didn’t—”

 

“No, you didn’t sleep through the night. It’s a little after seven. I was going to wake you up earlier but you seemed so tired.” Bin scratches the side of his neck. “And you seemed cold. And uncomfortable. I hope it’s okay that I put your head in my lap, and I didn’t know where you have your blankets, so I used my jacket.”

 

Bin is so sweet. Myungjun pushes the jacket away to the other end of the couch and turns, straddling Bin’s lap. He drapes his arms over Bin’s shoulders and smiles as he kisses him. Bin’s lips are still for the first moment before he returns the kiss, his hands sliding onto Myungjun’s waist. The kiss stretches on for a while, Myungjun’s lips slow against Bin’s. He wants to commit the feeling of Bin’s lips to memory. He never wants to forget the weight of Bin’s hands on his waist. It could be another month before he gets any substantial alone time with Bin, and he doesn’t want to lose the feeling of Bin’s body near his.

 

Bin pulls away from the kiss first. “Is everything okay?”

 

Myungjun nods and kisses Bin’s forehead. “All good,” he says, his voice still heavy with sleep.

 

“You just—I mean, I’m not complaining, but…”

 

As Bin’s voice trails off, Myungjun sits back on Bin’s legs and stares at him. Bin’s cheeks are flushed, his dark eyes even darker than usual. One of his hands rubs Myungjun’s waist, and Myungjun finally gets it. He giggles, covering a mouth with his hand.

 

“Sorry,” he says through his laughter. “Sometimes, when I first wake up, I do things without realizing. I shouldn’t have climbed on top of you.”

 

“No.  _ No.”  _ Bin’s hands slide to his lower back. “I’m not complaining.”

 

Myungjun hums and kisses Bin once more. “So you like it?”

 

The blush on Bin’s cheeks becomes more apparent. “Absolutely.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, a smirk coming onto his lips. The fog of sleep is starting to burn away in his mind, leaving behind a wall of confidence from seeing Bin so flustered. He’s been so worried for so long about intimacy with anybody, but with Bin, Myungjun wants to welcome it. He slides his hands into Bin’s hair and kisses him slowly, parting his lips to let his tongue find Bin’s as hands grip his waist. Myungjun wants to be closer to Bin than he’s never been with someone before. He wants Bin to know everything about him; he wants to share as much time together with Bin as possible and tell him about all his memories and dreams and wants. Currently, he wants  _ Bin. _

 

Bin’s stomach growls, loudly, and Myungjun grins into the kiss. “Hungry?” he mumbles against Bin’s lips.

 

Bin shakes his head. He drags his lips away from Myungjun’s mouth to kiss his jaw instead. “I want you,” Bin says against his skin.

 

Myungjun tilts his head back as Bin spreads kisses over whatever he can reach of his neck, what with the collar of his turtleneck somewhat in the way. Bin’s hands grip Myungjun’s hips and drag him closer. Myungjun’s stomach clenches in a pleasant way.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun sighs, leaning away from the onslaught of kisses. “We should stop. We need to eat dinner.”

 

Bin groans, dropping his head to Myungjun’s chest. His hold on Myungjun’s hips loosens as he breathes heavily. “How can you think about dinner right now?”

 

“How can you not?” Myungjun laughs. “Your stomach growled!”

 

Bin pulls his face out of Myungjun’s chest and leans back into the couch. Desire swims in his eyes and his hair sticks out in several different directions. “You’re much more interesting than dinner.”

 

Myungjun chuckles. “Okay, Mr. Romantic. We’ll have dinner and then, when we’re done eating, we can…” He bites his bottom lip, unable to bring himself to say it.

 

“We can?” Bin sits up, arms wrapping around Myungjun’s waist.

 

Myungjun nods. “If you still want to.”

 

“Without a doubt.” Bin pecks him on the lips. “You’re so beautiful, Myungjun.”

 

Myungjun ducks his head. “You mean it?”

 

Bin hums in agreement. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

 

Myungjun smiles and hugs Bin quickly. “We should go get food or I’m going to make you keep complimenting me.”

 

“I can do both.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head and slides off Bin’s lap. “One or the other. I’ll be forced to keep kissing you as thanks for the compliments and we’ll never end up getting dinner.”

 

“I could  _ be  _ your dinner,” Bin says with a smirk. “All you have to do is—”

 

“We’re getting dinner.” Myungjun snatches the jacket and throws it into Bin’s lap.

 

Bin tries several more times to get Myungjun to stay at the apartment, but Myungjun refuses every time. He has to push Bin out of the room and into the elevator down the hall. The longer Myungjun considers being intimate with Bin, the more nervous he grows. He  _ does  _ want to, but what if he does something wrong? Or stupid? Bin has had partners before, but Myungjun hasn’t had any. What if he makes a fool of himself? He’d shoved the intimate items under his bed after arriving back home from shopping, too embarrassed to look at them, but what if he got the wrong kind? He picked at random. How is he supposed to know what to buy? The worries pile on in his head as they walk to Bin’s car.

 

As Bin begins to drive, he breaks the silence. “Do you have any preferences for where we get dinner?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I figured I would leave it up to you.”

 

Bin smiles. “I was hoping you were going to say that. I have the perfect place in mind. It’s foreign food, though. Is that okay?”

 

“What kind of foreign food?”

 

“The good kind.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “I’ll trust your judgement. You haven’t brought me anywhere with bad food yet.”

 

“I haven’t brought you to dinner anywhere, though.” Bin glances at him. “Are you confusing me with someone else?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Of course not. I had lunch with you and Sungyong, remember? And you brought me lunch a few days ago. The food was good both times, so I’m going to trust that you know the best places to go.”

 

They don’t make much conversation as Bin drives. Myungjun turns the radio on after a short while, leaving it on a soft volume, and Bin takes hold of Myungjun’s hand, but they’re both content to let the silence lay over them. Bin eventually has to pull his hand out of Myungjun’s and he leans forward to read the street signs.

 

“It’s around here somewhere,” Bin mutters. “I can’t remember what street exactly.”

 

A light stops them and Myungjun watches several young women scurry across the street. “Should I look up the address?”

 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

 

They spend another ten minutes circling the area before Bin finally pulls into a parking lot. There are several large vans parked together and a group of people standing behind a barrier outside the restaurant. Myungjun presses further into the shadow of the car. Bin parks the car in the only available space, facing the group of people.

 

“Looks like they’re filming a drama,” Bin says. He grabs his phone and, after a short few moments, he sighs. “The restaurant is still serving customers for carry-out, which is good news. The bad news is”—he looks in the direction of the group—”they might recognize me.”

 

“We can go somewhere else.” Myungjun grabs Bin’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

 

Bin frowns. “This is a French restaurant, though.”

 

“Oh, Bin.” Myungjun smiles. “Because I was talking about Paris earlier?”

 

Bin nods. “I wanted to do something special. It might not be like actually being in Paris, but it’d be kind of like it.”

 

Myungjun leans across the car and kisses Bin lightly on the lips. “We can go somewhere else, really.”

 

Bin shakes his head. “I want to do this for you. I’ll keep my head down and walk fast, and maybe they won’t even look at me. They’re here for the actors, anyway.”

 

Myungjun kisses Bin again and settles back down into his seat. “I’ll stay here. If the wait is too long, though, or if they notice you, it might be best for you to come back and we can go somewhere else.”

 

Bin nods. He zips up his large jacket and pulls his mask over his mouth and nose before stepping into the cold and heading towards the front of the restaurant.

 

Myungjun pushes as far out of the light as he can. He holds his breath. A few of the people give a curious glance towards Bin. What if they run up to him? What if they try to follow him back to the car? Myungjun wants to fold in on himself. What if they’re found out tonight?

 

One of the people in the group, a younger looking girl, elbows the person standing next to her and points at Bin. The recognition is immediate and Myungjun hears, though muffled by the car, a high voice call out Bin’s name. Bin keeps his head down as a second person calls his name, and then a third. They should’ve ordered in.

 

Bin disappears into the restaurant. There are a few wandering glances tossed towards the parking lot, but no connection made between the car and Bin. Could it be that simple? If Bin makes it back into the car fast enough, maybe they can be out of the parking lot before someone takes a photo of the car. Would Myungjun even be visible within the car? The shadows have to be dark enough, right?

 

Myungjun jumps as his phone dings with a message. He scoffs at his own nervous state as he pulls the device out of his pocket to read a message from Bin.

 

_ Ordered our food. Should be out in twenty minutes. There’s a lot of people here, but they’re fast. _

 

For the whole twenty minutes, Myungjun hardly moves a muscle. An older couple returns to their car with their food, as does a young woman in a red dress and a long black coat. Bin texts him once more, a photo of the interior of the restaurant and the drama filming happening in the far corner of the dining area. The actors seem in the middle of a scene, and Bin’s attached message confirms as much.

 

_ They were yelling at each other when I took the photo… We should make a point to watch the drama together when it airs. _

 

The idea of sitting down with Bin once a week to watch a drama makes Myungjun smile. He doesn’t get a chance to respond to the message as the group of people waiting behind the barrier begin to yell. Bin keeps his head down as he exits the restaurant and makes straight for the car. Myungjun reaches for the side of the seat, his fingers finding the lever to let him lean the seat back further. The people yelling for Bin’s attention aren’t focused on him, thankfully.

 

Bin gets in the car without a word, passing the food to Myungjun. He doesn’t even buckle up before he pulls out of the parking spot and makes for the lot exit. When they’re down the road, Bin sighs.

 

“I think we made it out of there fast enough,” Bin says, glancing behind the car once. He pulls on his seatbelt. “They only seemed half interested.”

 

Myungjun cocks a brow. “That was half interested?”

 

Bin grins. “You’d be shocked to learn some of the stuff I’ve seen fans do. Those all seemed like relatively calm people, though. And I doubt they were able to see you in the car. It’s so dark in here I could hardly see you even though I knew you were in here.”

 

Myungjun lets out a heavy breath. “That’s a relief, at least.”

 

Bin holds Myungjun’s hand again as he drives back. There are more people parked along the road, so they have to park further away, but they make it back into the apartment with no further issues. As Bin sets their food on plates, Myungjun sets the table. He spreads out the cheap white tablecloth and lights the several small white candles he bought.

 

“I thought I was the romantic one,” Bin says as he sets the plates on the table, “but look what you put together.”

 

Myungjun tilts his head as he looks at the table. “It’s not the nicest thing, but—”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Bin stands behind him, bending until his head is right beside Myungjun’s. He holds his hands in front of Myungjun’s face and makes a rectangle with his fingers to mimic a camera frame. “Doesn’t it look like it’s straight out of some French film?”

 

Myungjun leans back into Bin’s body. “I guess it kind of does.”

 

Bin huffs and drops his hands to Myungjun’s hips. “You’re supposed to agree with me.”

 

“Oh, right. Yes, it looks like its right out of a French film.” Myungjun turns his head to the side and kisses Bin on the cheek. “Sit down, before our food gets cold.”

 

Bin pulls out Myungjun’s chair for him. It feels silly, to be doing something so proper in his own apartment, but in a nice way. Bin holds his hand from across the table, too, careful not to bump their drinks. Halfway through their meal, Bin sets his phone to playing gentle piano music and Myungjun starts to feel like he truly is in a French film. He’d shared one of his biggest dreams with Bin and Bin, in return, had done whatever he could to make his dream come true in some capacity as soon as possible. Myungjun can’t seem to keep his smile off his face.

 

Bin dumps their dishes in the sink with a promise to help Myungjun wash them before he leaves (though Myungjun doubts either of them will want to do the dishes as the night grows ever later). There’s a thought scratching at the back of Myungjun’s mind like an overexcited puppy eager to be let outside; if their date has to end before Sanha arrives home, they don’t have but a few hours left together until who knows when. Myungjun ignores the puppy in his head as he settles beside Bin on the couch, head on his shoulder, and focuses on the feeling of Bin’s hand in his.

 

After an entire episode of a drama has played through, Myungjun finally speaks up. “Hey, Bin. Are you planning to go home for the holiday?”

 

Bin shakes his head. “I’m staying here. My parents don’t want me to make the trip if I don’t have to because it’s dangerous will all the people on the road. I tried telling them I want to, but they insisted. Said it’s safer if I stay home. My sister is going to come visit instead and she’s bringing an old family friend with her.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “Have your parents always been so protective of you?”

 

“To an extent. Mom used to be hard on me about taking too many jobs when I first got out on my own, but that was”—Bin sighs—”four years ago.”

 

“You started managing yourself when you were 20?”

 

Bin makes a noise of agreement. “I moved out almost right after I graduated high school.” Bin pauses. “It didn’t last long, though. I met Seungkwan pretty early on, too, and he’s stuck around to deal with me since. I had more experience in the industry, but he always managed to keep a straight head when things got a little too crazy. I still don’t know how he does it.”

 

Bin’s phone dings and Myungjun sighs as Bin leans away to grab it. Bin flashes him a smile before checking it, and his brows furrow. “It’s Seungkwan,” he says.

 

“Seungkwan?” Myungjun leans into Bin’s shoulder, trying to read the message for himself. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Uh, not sure. He says someone posted a photo from the restaurant. There’s a link.”

 

Myungjun waits impatiently for the link to load. It’s straight to social media. The photo takes a moment longer to load, and Myungjun frowns when it does. The photo is of Bin, though he’s hardly recognizable under the bulk of his coat. The person who posted it has edited a sticker onto the photo, pointing out the vague shape of someone—himself—sitting in the passenger seat.

 

“‘New girlfriend? Boyfriend? Is Bin dating again?’” Bin reads from the caption. “Great.”

 

Myungjun chews the inside of his lip. “You can’t tell it’s me, though.”

 

Bin nods. “Can’t see your face at all.” He locks his phone and sets it on the coffee table once more. “You’re safe from prying eyes, which is what’s important.”

 

“But won’t people talk? Try to find out who it is?”

 

“Maybe. Maybe not. You can’t see your face at all in the photo, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Bin sits back on the couch. “Does it bother you?”

 

Myungjun purses his lips. “That photo didn’t catch me, but there might be another one that did. I’m worried about the public finding out before I work up the nerve to tell my parents. If they found out through the media first—” Myungjun shakes his head. “We’re fine, right?”

 

“You have nothing to worry about.” Bin kisses his temple. “In hindsight, we probably should’ve left when we saw how many people were standing outside. But the food was good, right?”

 

Myungjun smiles as the tightness in his chest dissipates. “Yeah, the food was good.” He fits his fingers between Bin’s. “I guess I should get used to having photos of me taken if I’m going to be dating you.”

 

Bin laughs. “It’s not that bad. Sometimes I don’t even recognize when someone has a camera on me.”

 

“When did you start to realize you were famous? Or, like, when did you think you were going to have to start being careful because people could recognize you on the streets?”

 

Bin hums. “Well, I was fifteen when I did an ad for a phone company and some people recognized me. Granted, I was standing right next to the advertisement outside the store. Mom wanted me to take a picture next to it.” Bin leans his head on top of Myungjun’s. "When I realized I was actually famous, though, was when the first article about a rumor I was dating someone came out. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why anybody would care who I was dating until Seungkwan said, ‘Well, you’re famous, now.’”

 

“There’s a lot of those types of articles around for you.” Myungjun pauses. “Are they true?”

 

“Some of them were, for a time. The media got wind of the Japanese idol I was dating, but she and I broke up right before the article came out. And the one about me dating a younger male model—that one was true, too. There were a few weeks early on where a rumor spread saying Seungkwan was my boyfriend.”

 

Myungjun giggles. “They thought you were dating your manager?”

 

“I guess it wasn’t very clear he was my manager. I tend to be a little too hands-on with my friends, so it causes a lot of stares. My friends, of course, know that’s just how I am.” Bin sucks air in through his teeth. “Though, with you, I felt like it was the only way I could get your attention.”

 

“The only way—” Myungjun sighs. “You’re a  _ model. _ You’re famous. I walked into the building and the only people I could see were you and Dongmin. It’s humbling and terrifying to stand beside someone like you, and I couldn’t figure out why you were paying so much attention to me.”

 

Bin laughs and kisses Myungjun’s forehead. “Someone like you deserves attention.”

 

Myungjun scoffs. “Someone like me.”

 

Bin sits up and faces Myungjun. “Yes, someone like you. Someone who’s unbelievably handsome and talented and smart and charming.” He smirks. “Someone with lips as soft as yours and a nose as cute as yours.”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “I can’t compare to you, though. You’re unlike anybody else.”

 

Bin shakes his head fervently. “Nope. Don’t go there. I'm complimenting  _ you  _ right now.” Bin kisses him. “I want to tell the world about you, Myungjun. Not because I’m dating you, but because you truly deserve the recognition for how amazing you are.”

 

“Bin, that’s—” Myungjun hugs Bin, both arms winding around Bin’s waist. “That’s probably one of the nicest things I’ve heard this year. Maybe ever.”

 

Bin kisses the side of his head. “I can’t wait until people start to see how talented you are and how much of an amazing person you are. You’re so dedicated and strong.” Bin sighs. “You should be the famous one, not me. All I’m famous for is having a good face. I just got lucky.”

 

Myungjun frowns, pulling away from Bin. “Don’t say that. You have to work for it, too. You have to put in time and effort to keep in good shape. And there are plenty of handsome guys who would never make it as models because they’re terrible people or because they don’t have the drive to do it.” Myungjun cups Bin’s jaw with both hands. “You deserve everything you have and more.”

 

Bin averts his eyes for a moment. “You think so?”

 

“Of course I do!” Myungjun smiles. “I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes to make you believe it, too.”

 

Bin smiles and turns his head to kiss Myungjun’s palm. He kisses the other one, too, and then leans close to kiss Myungjun on the lips. His kiss is slow and caring. Myungjun feels a hundred  _ thanks  _ in every press. The way Bin’s lips slide over his own is intoxicating and before long Myungjun finds himself pressing closer. Bin is more than willing to give in, sitting back against the cushions so Myungjun can climb into his lap again. A million fearful birds fly in Myungjun’s head, twisting and confusing as they fight with each other, but there’s only one Myungjun pays attention to.

 

He wants more.

 

Bin pulls away from Myungjun’s lips before long, placing several kisses along his jaw. His hands grab Myungjun’s hips and pull him closer as his mouth explores what it can reach of Myungjun’s neck. Myungjun tilts his head back, gasping at the sensation of Bin beginning to make a mark under his jaw. Alarms sound in his head and he pushes against Bin’s shoulders.

 

“B-Bin, don’t.”

 

Bin stops immediately, pulling back. “Sorry,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “It’s okay. I kind of want you to, but it’s a bad idea. But you can keep going. It feels nice. Just don’t leave any hickeys.”

 

Bin grins. “As you wish.”

 

Myungjun closes his eyes as Bin’s lips return to his neck. His hands squeeze Myungjun’s hips and he nips at Myungjun’s neck, enough to leave only a temporary pink mark. Myungjun’s entire body is hot. Nervous birds continue to swarm and peck at him but he ignores them. This is Bin he’s with, not some stranger or an asshole. Bin cares about him more than the people he’d been with before. Bin makes him feel safe and comfortable and lucky. Myungjun’s stomach flips with anxiety and anticipation as he slips his fingers into Bin’s hair and tugs his head back so he can kiss him on the lips. Bin groans into the kiss and his hands slide up over Myungjun’s hips and under his shirt, stopping at the waistband of his pants.

 

“This okay?” Bin asks, his fingers brushing bare skin.

 

Myungjun nods and presses his lips against Bin’s again. He can’t help but gasp as Bin’s hands slide over his skin, exploring his sides and his back as they kiss. A voice in the back of Myungjun’s head asks if they’re moving too fast, but Myungjun doesn’t think so. Another voice says they should take it slow in case someone saw him at the restaurant, but Myungjun couldn’t care less about the restaurant when he’s pressed so close to Bin.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun breathes. As soon as he’s pulled away from Bin’s lips, Bin begins kissing his neck. “Bin, I want to—” He swallows thickly.

 

“Are you sure?” Bin says against his skin. He kisses under Myungjun’s jaw before pulling away.

 

Myungjun nods. “I really want to.”

 

Bin smirks. It’s a confident look on him, even with his pink cheeks and his hair messed up by Myungjun’s fingers. He wraps his arms around Myungjun’s waist and stands.

 

Myungjun gasps, clinging to Bin with his legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders. “What are you doing?” he yells. “Put me down!”

 

Bin laughs, squatting for a moment to turn off the television. “Don’t you trust me?”

 

Myungjun stammers. “Of course I trust you, but—Bin, I swear, if you drop me—”

 

Bin laughs harder, kissing Myungjun’s shoulder. “I’m not going to drop you. Tell me which bedroom is yours.”

 

Myungjun opens his mouth but no words come out. Bin is going to see his room. They won’t miraculously find themselves in Myungjun’s sheets. He’ll see Myungjun’s unorganized desk, his haphazard pillows, and probably the clothes sticking out of his closet. Bin is going to see all the little imperfections that come with his daily life, and the thought makes his heart fling into his throat. 

 

“Uh, the one on the right. Second door on the right.”

 

Bin hums and heads for it. “You didn’t tell me you had the corner room.”

 

“It didn’t seem important.” Myungjun squeezes his legs around Bin, the swaying of Bin’s walking making his stomach hurt. “Bin, seriously, don’t drop me.”

 

“I’ve got you, Jun. You’re safe.” One of Bin’s hands leaves his body to open the door to his bedroom. “See? I can hold you up even with one arm.”

 

Myungjun pouts. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Let me down.”

 

Bin chuckles. “You’re cute when you worry.”

 

Myungjun holds his breath until his feet are flat on the floor again. As soon as they are, he smacks Bin’s chest. “You’re mean!” he cries. “You should’ve at least  _ told  _ me you were going to stand up.”

 

Bin laughs, catching Myungjun’s wrist. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time, all right? Or would you prefer a piggyback ride?”

 

“A piggyback ride?” Myungjun shakes his head. He rises to his toes and pulls Bin down to kiss him. “You like to tease me, don’t you?”

 

“You’re fun to tease.” Bin grabs him by the waist and pulls him to the bed. He sits down first before pulling Myungjun onto his lap. “And, in my defense, you make it easy to tease you.”

 

Myungjun frowns. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

 

Bin laughs, his lips finding Myungjun’s quickly. His hands find their way under Myungjun’s shirt again, too, slowly pulling the end of it up until Myungjun is forced to break the kiss. He holds his arms over his head and Bin pulls the sweater off of him and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.

 

“Beautiful,” Bin sighs, his eyes scanning Myungjun’s body before finding his face. “You’re beautiful, Myungjun. So beautiful.”

 

Myungjun ducks his head when he smiles, his entire body warm under the compliments. “Bin, I—”

 

He bites his tongue and slips off of Bin’s lap. Bin follows his movements until Myungjun is lying on his back on the bed and Bin is over him, their lips sliding together again. Myungjun loses track of time as he kisses Bin and lets his hands wander wherever they want. Several times he swears there are tears of joy daring to spring from his eyes. Bin’s hands caress him so carefully, so thoughtfully, and he stops again to ask if it’s okay before his hands slide under Myungjun’s body and lift Myungjun’s hips into his lap. They’re pressed close together, closer than Myungjun’s been to someone in a very long time, but he wants this. He tells himself no amount of nerves could make him stop even as they build in his chest.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun says, his voice almost scratchy. He grabs the hem of Bin’s shirt and tugs it upward a few inches. “I want to see you.”

 

Bin looks as wrecked as Myungjun feels. His blush has found its way to his neck and ears, and his lips are red from use. He sits up slowly, dragging his hands down Myungjun’s chest for as long as he can. Myungjun holds his breath as Bin pulls his shirt off in one smooth movement, and he gasps as Bin tosses it to the floor.

 

Myungjun can’t form words as he shifts and sits up, in awe at Bin’s body. He hesitates to touch Bin at first but glances up to see Bin smile at him a little, so he slides his hands onto Bin’s hips at his waistband. His body is warm, his skin smooth. Myungjun would be okay if Bin never wore a shirt around him again. He runs his hands over Bin’s abs and pecs and across his shoulders with care, taking his time to let his fingers travel where they want.

 

“Four days at the gym a week pays off, I guess,” Myungjun says. “You’re so…”

 

“So?” Bin’s fingers card through his hair gently. “So what?”

 

“Handsome?” Myungjun tries. “Gorgeous? Perfect?” He shakes his head. “Better than perfect. So much better.” He grabs Bin’s hands and lays back down. “A hundred thousand times better than perfect.”

 

Bin smirks, squeezing his hands. “Is that so?”

 

Myungjun bites his bottom lip and nods, tugging Bin closer by his hands. “And I want your perfect lips to kiss me more.”

 

Bin leans over him again right away, pressed between Myungjun’s legs as he kisses him deeply. Every kiss drives electricity through Myungjun’s body, and as Bin kisses down his neck, over his collarbone, and to his chest, a slew of embarrassing sounds leave his mouth. He can feel Bin’s smile against his skin and it drives him crazy. Myungjun drags Bin back up by his shoulders, kissing him hard as he squeezes Bin’s hips with his thighs. Still the nerves sit in his chest, a nagging weight that won’t fade, but Myungjun ignores them. He’s okay. He’s with Bin, and Bin cares about him and his comfort.

 

Myungjun arches into Bin’s body as one of Bin’s hands squeezes his hip. It’s such a raw feeling and it draws a moan out of Myungjun. He wants more, nerves be damned, so he presses himself into Bin’s hips.

 

Bin breaks the kiss as he groans. He pauses for a moment, breathing heavily. “Do you have condoms?”

 

Myungjun is jolted out of the present as if someone shoved him. He opens his mouth, but no words come out—only a small, broken sound.

 

“Jun?” Bin pulls away from his neck, frowning.

 

“Y-yeah, I have...” Myungjun takes a deep breath, a frown coming onto his own face. Has he lost his mind? He props himself up on his elbows. Bin would understand, wouldn’t he? Myungjun has never been with anybody before, ever, and the one time he almost was, it started with that same question.

 

“I need a minute,” Myungjun says.

 

Bin is off of him immediately, making room for Myungjun to sit up. He stays close, though, a comforting hand on Myungjun’s thigh.

 

“Bin, I—” Myungjun takes a deep breath and feels his body deflate. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I  _ do  _ want to, but I’m not—The last time I was almost with someone, I wasn’t completely comfortable. And now, I-I keep telling myself it’s okay because it’s you and you care about me. I know you care about me and I want to-to be intimate with you, but I can’t shake this awful feeling in my chest.”

 

“Jun, baby.” Bin grabs his hand and kisses it. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. If you don’t want to—”

 

“No, I  _ do.”  _ Myungjun squeezes Bin’s hand. “I want to, but I don’t think I can. Not right now, at least.”

 

Myungjun doesn’t see even the smallest shred of disappointment in Bin’s expression. He just nods and squeezes Myungjun’s hand back. “That’s okay, too. I don’t want you to force yourself. If you’re not comfortable, I’m not either.”

 

Myungjun drops his head, sighing deeply. He blinks as tears spring up in his eyes. “I thought you would be mad.”

 

“Oh, no, Jun. Not at all. It’s not only about what I want. I’m glad you stopped me.” Bin rubs his hand gently. “Always tell me if something feels wrong, okay? Or if I ever say something that upsets you.”

 

Myungjun nods and wipes at his eyes. “Okay. I, uh, I’m gonna change clothes. Do you mind waiting in the living room? Or, if you need to use the bathroom, it’s there, too. The next door over.”

 

Bin nods. He slides off the bed and grabs his shirt, quickly pulling it back on. “I’ll wait in the living room. Take as much time as you need, Jun. I won’t go anywhere.”

 

Myungjun slides off the bed, too. He catches Bin’s hand in the doorway, rises onto his toes, and kisses Bin on the cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

 

Bin flashes a kind smile. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

 

When Myungjun closes the door, he leans against it and lets out a shaky breath. Bin is okay with him not being okay, but he made it okay. Myungjun smiles a little, feeling the tangled ball of nerves in his chest already beginning to sort itself out. He takes a moment to right the sheets on his bed, tucking them back into place. Instead of his heavy turtleneck, he wears a solid blue shirt, though he keeps the same pants on. When dressed, he takes a moment to sit on the edge of his bed and breathe. Bin is okay with it. Myungjun couldn’t have asked for someone better to be in his life.

 

The television is on again and Bin sits on the couch, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions. Myungjun says nothing as he walks around the end of the couch and slips under Bin’s arm into a space that seems made for him.

 

“Are you okay?” Bin asks as he turns down the television.

 

Myungjun nods, reaching back to wrap Bin’s arm around his shoulders.

 

“Are we okay?”

 

Myungjun sits up, looking at Bin. “I think we are. Are we?”

 

Bin smiles and nods. “We are. If it’s okay for me to ask, though, about what happened with the other guy, I’d like to know. So I make sure I never do something like he did.”

 

“He, uh—” Myungjun averts his eyes. “Jaehwan. I was only 23 at the time, and our relationship got serious fast. He told me he loved me after we’d only been dating for a few days. I thought I did, too, at the time—love him, I mean. He seemed like a great guy. We were friends before we started dating and he never acted strange or rude towards me.” Myungjun finds Bin’s hand at his shoulder and fits their fingers together. “But after our third date, he wanted more. I told him I didn’t have condoms or lube, and I wasn’t ready for it—for sex. He tried to tell me it would be okay, there were other ways, but I fought him so much on it that he got tired. Or angry, maybe. So he got up and walked out of his own apartment. I got a cab back to the apartment I had then, and I never heard from him again.”

 

Bin is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry that happened, Jun. That was an awful thing to have to go through.”

 

Myungjun nods a little and shrugs. “It was a long time ago and I assumed I was okay now. Back then, I hadn’t wanted to. With you, though, I wanted to.  _ Want  _ to. I still want to, Bin, but I guess I’m more nervous than I thought. ”

 

“Which is okay.” Bin rubs his hand with his thumb. “We don’t have to rush anything. We have as many days as we want to do what we want, right?”

 

Myungjun meets Bin’s eyes again and finds nothing but acceptance behind them. “I’m just worried you’ll get tired of waiting.”

 

“No.” Bin squeezes his hand. “I’m dating you because of  _ you,  _ not to try to get something from you.”

 

Myungjun looks at their clasped hands. “First I want to keep our relationship secret and now I stop us right in the middle. I’m—”

 

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Myungjun. I understand why you feel the way you do, especially about wanting to keep us a secret.”

 

Myungjun meets Bin’s eyes and raises a brow. “You do?”

 

Bin nods once. “Yup. I haven’t told a lot of people about what I went through. Actually, I haven’t told anybody aside from my parents.” He laughs shortly. “When I was in high school, there was this boy I dated. He was handsome, and a little on the dumb side, but he was perfect to me at the time.” Bin averts his eyes, his fingers playing with Myungjun’s. “So, uh, we dated quietly for a while and it was nice. Hyunsoo, his name was. Anyway, he and I were at a party and were a little daring, kissing in a not completely private location. Someone took photos of us, but I was the only one whose face was visible. The photos—whoever took them started to pass them around the school and kids started picking on me. And Hyunsoo started to join in on it with the other kids. He said it was—it was so people wouldn’t think it was him in the photo, but I didn’t understand what would make him treat me so...poorly.”

 

Myungjun frowns and squeezes Bin’s hand. “Bin, that’s terrible.”

 

Bin shrugs. “It is what it is. I ended up changing schools because of it, but he taught me people will be cruel for no reason. So I know why you don’t want people to know about you and I. That fear of being teased, of being ridiculed. Right?”

 

Myungjun nods. He’d never stopped to consider before that Bin might have been through bad relationships before like he had. It seemed an impossible thing. Who would ever treat Bin poorly or call him names? Everything the media writes about him even seems to roll off his back.

 

“You’re not secretive with it now, though,” Myungjun says. “You’ve never come outright and said you like men and women both, but there are rumors of you dating men and whole forums talking about you being gay. Doesn’t it bother you?”

 

Bin pauses before he nods slowly. “Sometimes, but I don’t see any reason to hide from it when it isn’t something bad.”

 

Myungjun sighs. “You’re so cool.”

 

Bin snorts in amusement. “Am I?”

 

Myungjun nods and slides into Bin’s side, hugging him tightly for a moment. “The coolest.”

 

Bin rubs his shoulder. “Well, do you want to watch a movie with the coolest person? I think I found one you’d like.”

 

Myungjun settles against Bin’s side with a new lightness in his chest. The day has been long and their date eventful but he wants it to never end. He wants to ask Bin to stay the night to hold him while he sleeps, but he keeps that to himself. It would be strange for Bin to stay the night when Myungjun shares the apartment, and Myungjun refuses to invite himself to Bin’s place.

 

The movie Bin found to watch is a good one, but Myungjun is tired. He fights back yawns every few minutes without success, eventually hiding his face in Bin’s shoulder as he closes his eyes.

 

After about ten minutes of Myungjun resting his eyes, Bin speaks up. “Are you asleep?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Just resting.”

 

“I don’t mind if you go to sleep, you know.”

 

Myungjun pulls his face up and looks at Bin. “But if I go to sleep, you’ll leave while I’m sleeping.”

 

“What if I promise to wake you up before I go?”

 

Myungjun frowns. “But that’s no date. I already took a nap earlier. I’m fine, I swear.”

 

Bin kisses Myungjun’s forehead. “You’re sweet, Jun. And cute. Did you know that? You’re really cute.”

 

Myungjun hums and grins. “You’re lying.”

 

Bin shakes his head. “You’re the cutest person I know, and I know a lot of people." He pauses. "You should get some rest, Jun. I promise I’ll wake you up before I leave.”

 

Myungjun sighs. “I don’t have a pillow, though. Or a blanket.”

 

“Do you want me to get the one in your room?”

 

Myungjun nods.

 

Bin kisses him softly. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Myungjun watches Bin go, leaning his head back on the couch cushions. Bin is almost lost behind the large blanket as he re-enters the room. He dumps it in the empty space where he’d been sitting and lays Myungjun’s pillow at the other end.

 

“Good here?” Bin asks.

 

Myungjun nods and reaches his arms up towards Bin. “Kiss me.”

 

Bin smirks. He leans over Myungjun, pressing a hand into the couch to support himself as he kisses Myungjun. “Will you sleep now?”

 

Myungjun flops onto his side unceremoniously, earning a soft laugh from Bin. He hides a yawn behind his hand and waits as Bin fixes the blanket on top of him. Bin lifts his legs, sits, and lays Myungjun’s legs over his lap.

 

“Comfy?” Bin rubs Myungjun’s leg through the blanket.

 

Myungjun hums.

 

“Do I need to turn the TV down?”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Goodnight, Jun.”

 

Myungjun pauses. “You’ll wake me up before you go, right?”

 

“I promise I will.”

 

Myungjun soon falls into a place between wakefulness and sleep. He can’t quite let himself fall asleep, wanting too much to try and capture every moment with Bin, but he can’t keep his eyes open, either. Bin’s hand stays on top of his leg as a constant reminder of his closeness. After what might’ve been five minutes or an hour, Myungjun stirs and cracks open his eyes.

 

“Bin?”

 

Bin hums in acknowledgement.

 

Myungjun smiles to himself. “Binnie.”

 

Bin laughs, soft and breathy. “Binnie?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Can I call you Binnie?”

 

“Can call me whatever you want to, Jun.”

 

“I’ll call you Binnie.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Myungjun watches the television for a while. Bin must’ve muted it sometime during his half-sleep haze, as no sound comes out. Maybe Myungjun had fallen asleep without realizing it.

 

“Binnie?”

 

“Yeah, baby?”

 

Myungjun giggles. “Did Sanha come home?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

He didn’t fall asleep. Myungjun wiggles his foot and Bin snorts, tapping the offending limb. Myungjun wiggles his foot again and Bin grabs it, his fingers digging into Myungjun’s foot. He yelps, tugging his foot out of Bin’s grasp. When he stills, silence returns to the room.

 

What is Bin thinking about? Is he thinking about anything? Myungjun picks up his head to look at Bin, finding him looking very relaxed with his head back on the cushion and his eyes trained on the ceiling. If he’s thinking of something, what would it be? Myungjun lays his head back down and yawns, letting out a soft noise when he does. Is Bin thinking about him? Is he tired?

 

Myungjun scoots on the couch, away from the edge. “Binnie?”

 

Bin hums.

 

“Will you lay with me?”

 

“I might fall asleep.”

 

Myungjun tucks his chin towards his chest. “That’s okay.”

 

“Aren’t I supposed to go home?”

 

Myungjun worries a section of the blanket between his fingers. “You could set an alarm for midnight. When Sanha gets home, you can leave and I’ll kiss you goodnight.” He pauses. “Or you could stay.”

 

Bin laughs softly again. “I’ll lay with you for a little while, okay?”

 

Myungjun gathers the blankets and pulls them off of himself, scooting to make room on the couch for Bin. The couch is wide, thankfully, and Bin is able to fit beside Myungjun. His arm wraps over Myungjun’s waist and he slides their legs together as Myungjun fixes the blanket over both of them. It takes a bit of shifting, but they’re finally comfortable with Myungjun’s head in Bin’s chest and Bin’s arms around his body.

 

Myungjun sighs, grabbing a handful of Bin’s shirt at the back. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

 

“For laying with you?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, pauses, and shakes his head again. “Yes, but also for being so nice to me. You take care of me a lot. So, thank you.”

 

Bin presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You take care of me, too, even if you don’t realize it. I want to be a better person because of you. I mean, I’m always trying to be a better person, but you deserve the best person and I want to be that person for you.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “You’re making me better, too. I'm more confident because of you, and happier. I feel like I’m learning things by dating you and getting to know you. Learning how to be a better me, a better boyfriend.” He trails his fingers over Bin's back. “Am I a good boyfriend?”

 

“I couldn’t ask for anybody better than you, Jun.”

 

Myungjun’s heart sings, spewing all the music it had written throughout the day. He hugs Bin tight, pressing his face into his chest and smelling the familiar but faded cologne. Bin kisses the top of his head softly and rubs small circles into his back.

 

“Go to sleep, Jun. I’ll be here, and I’ll wake you up before I leave.”

 

For the second time in a day, Myungjun falls asleep feeling safe with Bin’s arms around him.

 

When Myungjun rouses, he feels oddly rested. He blinks at a blurry, pink and purple design in front of his eyes, and at the brightness in the room. Bin’s body is warm and still, one of his arms still over Myungjun’s waist. Myungjun sits up enough to glance around the room. Sanha’s shoes have spilled out of the entryway and his bedroom door is shut. The world outside seems awake, as Myungjun hears a distant car horn, but Bin—

 

Bin is fast asleep. His brows are slightly furrowed and his lips a little pursed, but he’s asleep. Myungjun scoots up until he’s high enough to press a kiss to Bin’s forehead. Bin doesn’t wake, so Myungjun gives his head another kiss. Still no response. Myungjun smiles to himself and kisses Bin’s nose and the one cheek he can reach before he slides back down and presses close to Bin’s warm body again. He trails his fingers across Bin’s back and kisses where he can, which is mostly Bin’s upper chest. Myungjun wiggles upwards slightly and kisses Bin’s neck right above his collar and his chin.

 

Bin shifts in place a little, and Myungjun pulls out of his chest to watch him wake. His brow furrow deepens before he opens his eyes and blinks several times. He yawns wide and smacks his lips before glancing downward. Myungjun grins. A confused look crosses Bin’s face for a moment before his expression softens and he smiles so wide his dimple appears.

 

“Good morning, lovely,” Bin whispers. His voice is a little scratchy from disuse.

 

Myungjun smiles. “Good morning, handsome. You stayed the whole night.”

 

Bin nods. “I know.” He yawns again, this time turning his face away from Myungjun as best as he can. He blinks hard a few times before looking at Myungjun again with a smile. “I was still awake when Sanha got home, but I don’t think he knew I was awake. By then, you were sleeping so peacefully. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I didn’t. I fell asleep instead.”

 

Myungjun giggles. “And now you get morning kisses.”

 

Bin raises his brows. “I do?”

 

Myungjun nods. He scoots up with a little effort and pecks Bin on the lips.

 

Bin smiles and returns the kiss, though his lasts a little longer. “I would’ve asked to stay the night if I knew I was going to get morning kisses.”

 

Myungjun rolls his eyes. He scoots down once more and buries his face against Bin’s chest. He has no intention to fall asleep again, though he does close his eyes and let himself bask in the moment. Bin rubs his back, almost absentmindedly it seems, his fingers tracing arcs over top of Myungjun’s shirt. He could stay this way all day.

 

“Did you sleep well?” Bin asks softly.

 

Myungjun nods. “Better than I have in a while. Probably because of you.”

 

Bin hums and his hand runs up to Myungjun’s head, carding through his hair and working through the few tangles he finds. “I would say we should make this a habit, but I’d never let you out of bed in the morning.”

 

“Is that a promise?”

 

Bin laughs. “You’d have to let me move in with you and Sanha.”

 

“I think he’d be okay with that.”

 

“And you’d have to deal with my often erratic schedule.”

 

“As long as you give me kisses when you get home, I'll be okay.”

 

Bin kisses the top of his head. “Like that?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “Real kisses.”

 

Bin slides down the couch until he’s face to face with Myungjun. He kisses him for only a few moments. “Does that count?”

 

Myungjun slides a hand up Bin’s chest to his neck and kisses him deeper. Bin smiles against his lips, his hand flat against Myungjun’s back to hold him close to his chest. The kiss doesn’t last long as Myungjun can’t help the laughter that begins to fill his chest. It bubbles and builds until he’s forced to pull away from Bin’s lips as he begins to giggle.

 

“What?” Bin asks. “What’s so funny?”

 

Myungjun pecks Bin on the lips. “I’m glad you stayed the night." He redirects his eyes to Bin's chest, playing with the front of his shirt as a smile stays stuck to his lips. "I wish it could always be like this, you and I together in a quiet room.”

 

“Maybe someday.”

 

Myungjun looks at Bin and warmth worms its way into his chest. “You think so?”

 

“I’d like to, at least. I think I’d be a lot happier in the mornings if I got to wake up to you all the time. I might even start going to sleep at a regular time. You’re a good influence on me, Jun.”

 

“I sure am.” Myungjun climbs on top of Bin, kissing him once, and slides off the couch. “Do you want breakfast?”

 

Myungjun makes a simple meal, enough for him, Bin, and Sanha. Luckily, too, as Sanha emerges from his room as Myungjun is settling down on the couch beside Bin once more.

 

“Have a good night out?” Myungjun asks, twisting on the couch to look at Sanha.

 

Sanha nods as he rubs one of his eyes. “Yeah.” He stops, eyes moving over Myungjun to Bin. “Oh, right,” he mumbles.

 

Myungjun waits for Sanha to say something more, but he doesn’t. He moves into the kitchen, out of sight, and shuffles back into his room with a bowl of food without further conversation.

 

Bin eats slowly. He drags his feet as he carries his and Myungjun’s dirty dishes to the kitchen, and he drags his feet as he walks back. His arms linger around Myungjun’s body as he holds him, and his kisses are light and slow. He even follows Myungjun into his room when he goes to return his blanket and pillow and stands hugging Myungjun from behind for several minutes. Bin is trying to drag out every moment of their morning together, but it still doesn’t last long enough.

 

Bin pulls on his jacket, a small frown set upon his lips. “I don’t wanna go,” he sighs. “Wish I could stay here all day.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “I’ll walk you down to the lobby.”

 

Bin hugs Myungjun in the elevator with his head resting on top of Myungjun’s. When the doors open, Bin presses the button to close them before holding Myungjun’s face in both his hands and kissing him deeply. Myungjun leans into the kiss, winding his arms around Bin’s shoulders to try and hold him as close as possible. They probably shouldn’t, as someone could call the elevator and see them within seconds, but Myungjun finds he doesn’t care. Let them see. He’s slow to pull away from Bin’s lips, but he does eventually and leads Bin to the main doors of the building. He waits until Bin is completely gone from view before heading back up to the apartment.

 

Myungjun falls onto the couch when he arrives. He has to call his parents. A sick feeling settles into his stomach, and it grows with each second he hesitates. Is it too late to take Bin up on his offer of spending Christmas together?

 

Sanha emerges from his room, interrupting Myungjun’s musing. “Did Bin go home?”

 

Myungjun nods. “Yeah, I sent him off a little bit ago.”

 

“Good.” Sanha disappears into the kitchen for a moment to discard his dirty bowl before returning. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“You do?”

 

Sanha is biting back a smile without much success. He sits on the opposite end of the couch, one leg pulled onto the cushions as he faces Myungjun. “It’s about Taewoo.”

 

“Taew—The intern you were kissing.”

 

Sanha ducks his head with a soft laugh. “Yeah, him. He and I had a date yesterday, too, and he—oh.” Sanha covers his smile with a hand and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He wipes the smile from his lips, mostly; Myungjun can see how hard he’s trying to fight it. “He told me he loves me.”

 

Myungjun’s brows raise. “And? Did you say it back?”

 

Sanha nods eagerly, his smile coming back. “I did. I really do love him, too, hyung. We started out the day by going to his parents’ house. He wanted to tell them about him and me, and that he’s gay, but he didn’t want to do it on his own so I told him I would go with him. They took it well, actually.”

 

Myungjun lets out a breath. “That’s a relief.”

 

Sanha laughs a little. “He cried some. He’s kind of sensitive like that. But we had lunch with his parents and then we went to the mall and he bought me this.” Sanha holds up his wrist, showing a simple silver bracelet. Myungjun doesn’t get a good look at it because Sanha pulls his wrist close again, grinning at the piece of jewelry. “I didn’t get to choose because he’d already bought it; we were only there to pick it up. But I held my wrist out and he put it on me, kind of like the girls who get necklaces in the movies.”

 

Myungjun can’t help but smile. Sanha’s joy is infectious, pushing Myungjun's concerns about his family to the back of his mind.

 

“His parents live kind of out of the way, north of Bukhansan National Park, so we spent a lot of the day there. He showed me where he went to school and we had coffee in a cafe together. And on the way back, he stopped in the middle of a conversation and told me he loves me.” Sanha drops his head, smiling down at his wrist in his lap. “I was talking about a vacation I took with my family and he just said, ‘Sanha, I love you.’”

 

Myungjun sighs. He had been worried Sanha would end up hurt by Taewoo in the same way he was hurt by Songho when he was in high school, but things seem to be going well for them.

 

“I was surprised when he said it,” Sanha says with a laugh, looking up at Myungjun again. “I looked at him and went, ‘What did you say?’ So he said it again. He must’ve said it a hundred times yesterday. And I told him…” Sanha trails off and he ducks his head again. “When I first met him, I thought there was no way he’s real. He’s so handsome, hyung, and I never believed that people could fall in love at first sight, but I think I did with him. And I told him that.”

 

Myungjun smiles. “I’m really happy for you, Sanha. I’m glad you found someone you like so much and that it’s working out for you.” Should he tell Sanha about his plan to quit his job? It would be bad to leave him out of the loop until the last moment. “I actually have my own news to share, too.”

 

Sanha straightens. “You do?” A cheeky grin comes onto his face and he wiggles his brows. “Hyung, did you and Bin—”

 

“N-no.” Myungjun shakes his head. “That’s not what I want to talk about. It’s a little more important.”

 

Sanha’s brows furrow. “More important than if you had sex with Bin?”

 

Myungjun sighs and tilts his head as a needle of frustration pricks him. “Yes, more important than that. It’s about my job.”

 

“Oh.” Sanha grows serious. “What’s wrong?”

 

Myungjun purses his lips. He hadn’t thought of how to phrase it. If he tells Sanha that Miss Kim slapped him, it could damage his own work there. He might feel uncomfortable even though he hardly sees Miss Kim in person. Fewer details, then.

 

“I’m not happy working there anymore,” Myungjun says. “I’m going to quit soon, which means I won’t be able to afford to keep living here with you.”

 

Sanha frowns. “But we’re roomies. You were the one who asked me first if I wanted to be your roommate, remember?”

 

Myungjun couldn’t forget. He met Sanha within his first few days of working for Miss Kim. Sanha had been there first, and he was quick to help Myungjun learn the layout of the building and the way employees go about their day. After two months of commuting more than half an hour to get to work every day, Myungjun knew he had to move closer. Sanha was the best candidate for his roommate, and the younger boy had eagerly agreed. They each brought some of their own furniture; most was Sanha’s, as a gift from his parents. Myungjun’s previous apartment had come furnished, so he only owned a few small items. In the months since, their friendship has grown and Myungjun has come to rely on Sanha for company.

 

“Where will you go?” Sanha asks. “Do you already have another job you’re going to move to?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head. “I’m waiting to hear back from my old boss. If he’ll give me my job back, then I’m going back to the magazine. I’ll give Miss Kim my two-week notice if he does. Otherwise, I’m not sure.”

 

Sanha leans over on the couch, patting Myungjun’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Maybe you could find a job at a tailor’s like you said your mom used to do.”

 

Myungjun nods. “Yeah, maybe.” Myungjun stands from the couch. “I need to make a phone call.”

 

Sanha stays in his place on the couch, and Myungjun retreats to his bedroom. He sits on the edge of his bed and dials his mom. He’s going to have to lie again. They can’t know he’s gay, that he’s dating Bin. They can’t know he’s having issues with his job. He refuses to be a burden to them.

 

His mom answers after two rings. “Myungjun! I wasn’t sure if I would ever hear from you again.”

 

Myungjun ducks his head. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I’ve been busy with work. I’m calling to say I’ll be coming home for Christmas.”

 

His mom gasps. “You  _ are?  _ Well, I’ll have to make sure I make enough food!” His mom’s voice grows quiet as if she’s pulled the phone from her face. “Joonki! Your son’s coming home for Christmas!”

 

Myungjun bites his bottom lip. “I’ll try to make it in on Christmas Eve,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

 

“Oh, that’s fine, Myung. But we don’t have room at home for you.”

 

Myungjun grips the blanket beneath him. “What?”

 

“Well, you never called your brother back to tell him if you were coming home or not, so we assumed you weren’t. Hoon invited his fiancee to stay with us for the holiday. They’re staying in our guest room together.”

 

_ Fiancee.  _ His brother is going to marry, and he didn’t know. Nobody bothered to call and tell him. Myungjun knows he hasn’t been the best at keeping in touch, but news as big as his brother being engaged—

 

“I can find a hotel, Mom. It’ll be okay.”

 

“All right, Myung. We can’t wait to see you!”

 

“Yeah.” Myungjun grips the blanket so tight it might rip. “Can’t wait to see you, either.”

 

Myungjun’s mom ends the call first, but he doesn’t move. He stares at the floor with the phone still pressed against his ear.

 

After their move from Suwon to Seoul when Myungjun was in middle school, their family dynamic shifted. His mom took to working more hours. His dad was gone more often, too, spending more time out of the house to pursue his art. Myunghoon, older than Myungjun by quite a few years, had a large group of friends he spent every day with. Myungjun's family left him to his own devices. He was occupying the same apartment as them, but he may as well have been living on his own.

 

When Myungjun moved out, he saw his family even less. Myunghoon had left for college three years before, and Myungjun’s parents moved back to Suwon almost immediately. Myungjun was  _ alone.  _ He threw himself into his work even more than he had before. His only distraction had been in the short time he’d dated Jaehawn. Every year, he saw less of his family. Now they don’t even call him to let him know his brother has gotten engaged.

 

Myungjun releases his grip on his blanket and lays back, letting his phone fall out of his hand onto the mattress. Is it too late for him to cancel? Is it too late for him to stay with Bin for the holiday?


End file.
